#and it being a camera makes it a Lot easier to justify how he got close enough to it for stuff to go that wrong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

selphplusplus · 1 year

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When you have to stay quiet. Zero dark, 30.

Ok but how you gonna say anything? Lmao.

Without admitting to being a damn spying motherfucker?

lol Leviticus

Shotguns and the indigenous Greenery

Now we get biblical.

Not in the Jesus kind of way

But in the old testament to Ash, leave them where they lay

Sodom and Gomorrah siren song

Where a lot looked back and saw the salt

His wife fall as the tears from his face. The salt was the same.

We’re talking 10 Commandments

Or 10 Command lines.

Airgas, in a flood, a torrent

A dark, dark, dark dark net torrent

Of information, flooding a particular access point

Filling the entire spectrum

With the seven seals

The seven trumpets

And the four horsemen

All set up

Bitch you know what I’m talking about

Stomp those feet baby stomp.

I can hear it from here

It’s funny that way

It’s very funny that way, because I understand what stemming is, as I am the same in that regard the differences

Let me channel a little Eminem

We can start with the Penis (mine is bigger by exponential amounts)

Then we can scream I don’t give a fuck and see, who really means it

When my balls hit the floor concrete cracks

When your balls come out, everybody laughs.

“See what he’s writing. “

🤏🏻👆🏻

Echoes of your own paranoia

Because you’re watching in real time.

Let’s let the rest of the world in on the Truman show huh?

You too loud.

Damn. Passive aggressive bullshit really.

Underground like a land mind.

Boom 💥

And you thought it was cool to ruin a friendship over all this. Without coming to me first. Just took actions into your own hands. Shit. Acting a lot like that person you in therapy over.

Oh. Oh? I don’t play fair.

You wanna pass judgment what you’re doing is infinitely morally worse than an addiction. You are driven by pure ego. Control freak behavior. Familiar. Hmm.

We can both break if we gonna walk down this bridge. Mutually assured destruction.

You don’t ever even see me. Ffs

And you know only the shit you’ve been spying on. Scum. Disgusting. All talk like you what to have a discussion but instead not a word. Just sideways roundabout shit. Judgmental glances. Never a “are you okay”.

So how you justify this? Peering into someone’s deepest and most intimate thoughts without their consent. No better than a rapist. The invasion is the same. And we both know mental wounds are much harder to heal.

Trust huh? Never had it with you it seems.

火にいきるのが死ねよ

That also explains the nonchalant attitude of my brother. Shit gets clearer and clearer. Say what you gotta say.

Ruin. Chaos for chaos sake. Bored and unfulfilled. So let’s start drama huh? Adopt 1000 mental disorders. Find a new identity. Make the ones around you enemies. When they care about you.

A master in self sabotage can easily recognize another. Queue up the blue October lyrics. Suicidal hate. Retarded disfigured clown, too much make up, it’s a lie how you act. But always always on stage. Histrionic. Borderline. Narcissist. Pick your flavor of the week.

Add in a little gasoline the self destructive kind, it’s become a part of your personality, only unlike Plath who phoenix flame rose to devour the ones around without recourse, indiscriminately burning

The world to a wasteland.

You are the self-immolating monk selling snake oil. You crave the camera but can’t light the match. Crave the attention but shy away from the flash. Talking a lot about smoke, but ecig when it counts.

PS,

How you like hearing your moms cheeks get clapped? Do I need to drop the pictures too. I think it’s easier to tell the truth.

Foiling your Deux

Fall out Boy Edition

Love from the other side, fuck it why not

Let’s go there, more like love from the afterlife

Apocalypse got the better of the whole damn nuclear family.

But the atom hurts the worst when the fission breaks away the til heat death do these bonds we break.

Bloodsport what too light a phrase

The hysteric craze

The blame laid

On a mantle too small and cluttered to hold another candle.

But you expect it to handle your wild fires , just as unpredictable,

I apologize in advance for the collateral damaged goods.

Baggage claim

This is the captain from the Malaysian plane.

And sugar it’s going down.

Loaded pistol grip pump when I cock my pen and pull it.

Not leaving this bed, hospice said

Sick in the head, in other words

I’m as ill as it gets.

Dance dance to the sound of beat down

Bitch this that friction in my genes that the original was talking about.

Only there’s no wish to be it.

Infact I prefer to just cackle and laugh

As the plane crash smashed what’s still intact of your sanity.

More vanity today.

Looking in mirrors and hate what you see

The bitch in reflections,

Welcome to the symphony

You called to strike up the band

But when the bass dropped and you had to with your thoughts

The thot in the mirror even saw what a raw deal they got.

So now you’re invisible, she ran away

At the thought of being you one more day.

Sorry prematurely I gotta cut it short and have to end it.

I mentioned earlier, there’s something else that needs writ and imma pin it.

They say the tribulation begins with a wailing and a gnashing of teeth. Bruxism keeps pace, there will be no teeth to gnash. Just dust and gums.

I will show you something different than your shadow at dawn weighing heavy behind you. Or your twilight wick at wax’s end. I will show you your traditions are naught but fear in a handful of dust.

The vessel, no the chalice bears no water.

Still we’ve yet passed the Thames

Or Styx or Lethe.

Yet all the same

April still to come, remains the cruelest month. So rudely forced.

“But what will people say?”

Zeus to Persephone.

So rudely forced.

The stork brings only deserts.

The San Pedro songs in fever dreams

We’re just so. Dreams.

Shattered like the mirror, like you. Like me.

I think it’s the similarities you resent.

Surrogate for the self.

Sterilize.

Better than euthanize.

Better than non-alive.

Because when you live the suffering is extended.

Saint de Sade. Patron Saint of Masochists and self flagellation.

Leviticus

Shotguns and the indigenous Greenery

Now we get biblical.

Not in the Jesus kind of way

But in the old testament to Ash, leave them where they lay

Sodom and Gomorrah siren song

Where a lot looked back and saw the salt

His wife fall as the tears from his face. The salt was the same.

We’re talking 10 Commandments

Or 10 Command lines.

Airgas, in a flood, a torrent

A dark, dark, dark dark net torrent

Of information, flooding a particular access point

Filling the entire spectrum

With the seven seals

The seven trumpets

And the four horsemen

All set up

Bitch you know what I’m talking about

Stomp those feet baby stomp.

I can hear it from here

It’s funny that way

It’s very funny that way, because I understand what stemming is, as I am the same in that regard the differences

Let me channel a little Eminem

We can start with the Penis (mine is bigger by exponential amounts)

Then we can scream I don’t give a fuck and see, who really means it

When my balls hit the floor concrete cracks

When your balls come out, everybody laughs.

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

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Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing

Part Summary: While Y/N is out shopping with Cara, news breaks that ties her with MGK.

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Two days later...

Cara and I go out shopping and have lunch for a girl’s day. I have yet to talk about the other night with Sam. Cara hasn’t mentioned it and I have no plans to either. Cameras have followed us up and down Rodeo Drive. By this point, Cara and I are both used to it. Carrying my bags however, I doubt I look graceful for these videos their taking. Oh well, they have fifteen thousand more of me.

“CARA! EXCITED TO WALK IN THE CHANEL FASHION SHOW?”

Cara ignores the paparazzi and points out a dress in the window at Dolce and Gabbana. I request to go inside to try it on. I’m not sure where I’d wear it to, but that doesn’t really matter.

“Welcome ladies!” A woman in a black dress approaches. “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

I point over to the dress in the window, “could I see that in a size six please?”

She leaves us to go find the dress for me and we roam around a small section while she does. My phone rings and I see Nicole’s name pop up. My heart immediately begins to race. She doesn’t call me unless absolutely necessary, usually we text. I step away toward the corner to be discreet.

I answer the call hesitantly. “Nicole? What’s up?”

“I got a call from Stephanie,” she sounds agitated on the other end.

Stephanie is my publicist, she handles everything that Nicole can’t basically. They bicker a lot since they’re both so headstrong and constantly need control. It’s the classic good cop/bad cop scenario, yet I don’t know who’s who. These two cover every aspect of my career, God bless them.

“Oh no, sounds bad,” I grumble anxiously.

“Depends how you look at it,” she lightens her tone.

“What is it?” I press.

“Well…” she hesitates.

“Nicole!” I drag out her name.

“It’s all over social media, magazines and it will be on TMZ tonight,” she stammers. “I’m surprised you haven’t already heard if I’m being honest-”

“Nicole! What?” I rush her.

“An article about you and Colson Baker just dropped on some gossip sight,” she explains. “It says that you and Colson Baker are dating. Stephanie and I figured no one would believe it but it’s everywhere! They have videos and photos of you two leaving The Ivy plus talking by Sam’s car. If I didn’t know you, I would be convinced.”

My head hangs low as I rub my forehead, letting out a deep sigh. “Oh dear God.”

“We can handle it, don’t worry!” Nicole assures. “This story will be gone soon!”

“I need to go, talk to you later!” I hang up on Nicole right when the woman shows me the dress.

“I’ll take it” I attempt to hurry up the process.

Cara comes up next to me “don’t you think you should try it on first?”

“I’ll explain later but we need to go” I whisper to her and just like that, she’s hurry the woman along at the register.

I have the dress and exit the store in a rush. I must act cool, the paparazzi will take notice of my mood change.

“HOW’S COLSON, Y/N?”

“SEEING HIM TONIGHT?”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN DATING?”

“HOW ARE GONNA HANDEL HIS FANS?”

“HAS HE MET THE FAMILY YET?”

“What’s going on?” Cara asks concerned.

“I’ll explain once we’re somewhere private,” I whisper so the cameras don’t pick up on it.

We speed walk to the car and I offer to drive since I made us cut the day short. Once we’re on the highway towards home Cara asks what the heck is going on.

“Why did they keep asking about Colson?”

I turn on the radio and Elvis Duran, along with his team, are discussing no other than me and Colson.

Danielle summarizes the article for the listeners. “The article says they’ve been dating for the past few months. They’re very happy but the relationship is still new. The pair has not yet met each other’s families but Colson is going on tour soon so maybe Y/N will join him and eventually meet the family. Throughout, there are tons of photos of the cute young couple leaving The Ivy Wednesday night. There’s even a link to a video showing them, what appears to be, having a deep conversation by Sam Merka’s car. If you watch the video, the two are clearly looking at each other very lovingly. I mean, he’s looking at her the way I look at a fresh pizza!”

The rest of the cast laughs and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Actually, scratch that, I can believe it. I’m just pissed.

“If MGK and Y/N are officially an item, why did she leave with Sam Merka?” Elvis questions.

“I’m glad you asked! According to sources, they’ve been very close friends since the start of TSL. In fact, the duo have taken many vacations together along with their co-star Penelope Glass.”

Cara turns down the volume and looks to me with a steady expression. “Is it true?”

I narrow my gaze at her in bewilderment. “What? No! There’s no way in hell!”

“Okay, just checking,” she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Never ever!” I add and change the station.

Colson Baker is everything I despise in a person. I’ve never hated someone so fast as I’ve hated him. Us together as a couple is impossible. It’s completely irrational.

_________________________________________________________

Later in the afternoon, Stephanie sets up a meeting for us to meet with Colson and his publicist. I had to drag myself to her office. My Fridays aren’t well spent in an office building with enemies. In fact, my whole day could be tarnished by this incident. The meeting room we’re all ushered into is freezing and I’m still in my sundress from earlier. Cara and I were never able to get lunch so I’m starving on top of being cold. The photos of us play in a slideshow on the meeting room’s tv. An endless cycle of false advertisement is how I see the photos. The media is selling us as something completely far from the truth. On top of everything, I’m in a meeting with the one guy in all of Los Angeles I can’t stand. Death would be less painful than the current situation. I tune out the debate between Stephanie and Colson’s publicist. He told me his name but my brain is so numb from the temperature in here I can’t recall it.

“Y/N!” Stephanie calls my name and I search for her around the room until I find her in the doorway with Colson’s publicist.

“We’re going to go make a few phone calls. You two will stay here while we handle the press.” I nod “sounds good.”

I send her a weak smile to charm her out of an apology for zoning out. She huffs and escorts Colson’s guy to her office so they can talk on speaker privately. I stand up from my office chair and stroll over to the windows overlooking the courtyard. I watch the cars zoom by on the street and businessmen and women shuffle in and out of the Starbucks below.

“If it means anything, I’m sorry,” Colson says quietly behind me.

I nearly miss it, he speaks so quietly. I lean against the wall, crossing my arms as I face him.

“You’re sorry?” I shrug, not really seeing his blame. “Why? It’s not your doing.”

I return my gaze to the chaos below us. I watch as people with office jobs travel about. I wonder if they’ve heard of me? I wonder if they like me or think I’m a stuck up actress? I shouldn’t care what people think, but it’s easier said than done. When millions watch TSL every week, it’s hard to ignore the wondering.

“If I hadn’t walked you to the car none of this would be happening,” Colson reasons guiltily.

I shake my head, finding humor in the situation now. The paparazzi can make nothing into a months long romance. A brief conversation outside a restaurant and suddenly we’re meeting each other’s families.

“We were only walking to a car. How could either of us have predicted the amount of attention that would come of us walking?” I justify, not to ease his mind, but my own.

My flicker over to the tv, I examine the slideshow of us. Examining the photos I realize it wasn’t all in my head, the way in which Colson was gazing at me is a tad bit gawk-like. Images of us walking to the car while I’m answering the paparazzi’s questions depict Colson glancing at me with what seems to be such admiration. A picture of when Cara calls for Colson comes up and I’m stunned by how we look. Even I appear to be in awe of him in return. It’s evident Cara is speaking yet neither of us react. We were so caught up within on another.

“I have one question!” I blurt out suddenly with my arms crossed I walk back over to the table. Just one and then I wish to put all of today’s events to rest.” Colson perks up and hums for me to continue. I point over to the photos on the screen “why did you look at me the way you did?”

Turning his head, he reviews the photos blankly and I wait anxiously for some sort of reason. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way,” he disregards my accusations.

I chuckle, amused by his horrible way of lying. “Lies!”

He’s thrown off by my reaction and I storm over to the TV screen to point it out to him.

“It’s clear as day to the press, the public and now me included. You’re clearly lost in some kind of thought! You were there, so was I and our friends! Say all the lies you want but you’ll never convince anyone.”

His jaw clenches and he avoids my gaze. He leans back in his chair, staring out the windows. “Colson,” I sigh, slowly approaching the table. “Maybe the truth could help the lies disappear! If we’re honest then maybe the press will leave us alone!”

He shakes his head low, letting out a brief laugh. “I highly doubt that.”

I have a thousand questions but I’m aware none will go answered. He’s a lost cause. I’m in this alone I guess. Turning my back to him I return to my position by the window. Observing the worker bees swarming around the spaces below. The sound of Colson’s chair rolling back comes from behind me but I don’t even shift. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his figure in the reflection of the window beside me. My attention remains outside. He won’t give me the time of day so why should I treat him any better?

“You wanna know why I looked at you the way I did?” His presence hovers of me and he feels like a wall surrounding me.

“Please,” I mutter a subtle beg.

“I... I had this imagine of you in my head, pre-judgements. You’re supposed to be America’s Sweetheart, Little Miss Perfect! You told me you had been working for this for years, had drive and trails.” He confesses. “You’re not what I expected... It caught me by surprise is all.”

My eyebrows furrow close, “So you thought I was just some pretty face, goody-two-shoes, ditz? If it’s because my image, my past, you said so yourself it doesn’t matter!”

“No, no, that’s not it!” he runs his hand through his hair nervously.

Narrowing my eyes, I press further. “Why then?”

The door swings open and I straighten up before forcing a warm smile to my face. I step back from Colson before the person ever appears in the doorframe. One of Stephanie employees informs us that we’re free to go. Steph doesn’t want to keep me here all day and since I’m allowed to go Colson’s publicist is releasing him. I clasp my hand together, walking over to fetch my purse.

“Thank you so much!” I gush. “Have a good day and please tell Stephanie “thank you!””

The young intern eats up my pleasant expressions. “You too Miss Voss! Will do!”

The young woman shuts the door behind her and I return to the state I was in. Expressionless, I gather my belongings and Colson does the same. Checking my phone for any missed emails or calls I can tell he’s staring me down.

“Does it ever get tiring?” His tone is light, but I can hear the ounce of mockery beneath the surface.

My attention is locked on my phone as text after text pops up from Penelope. She’s more likely than not has seen all the articles and Twitter posts. I should call her and explain.

“Y/N!” Colson shout pulls my from my thoughts.

“Huh? Does it ever get tiring?” I restate his question back to him. “What exactly are we talking about?”

I slide my purse over my shoulder while stepping over to the door, leaving Colson behind. That is until he follows me.

“Your whole act.” He forces a fake smile and tosses imaginary hair over his shoulder. “The “happy go-lucky goody goody All-American girl?””

I scoff, eyeing him up and down. “You’re ridiculous. It’s not an act.”

I swing open the meeting room door, eager to leave here. My heels clink against the white shiny tiles on my walk to the elevators. After hitting the down button, I call up Blake now that I have some time to kill. She’s my oldest friend, I’m sure she sees right through all of the tabloids and is only checking in.

“Calling your boyfriend?” Colson mutters over my shoulder and I quickly move away.

“Don’t have one,” I answer plainly, waiting for Penelope to pick up.

He smirks and props himself up against the wall beside the elevator doors. I side eye him, all he does is smile all the time and he calls me out for acting so happy all the time.

“Can’t you find anyone else to annoy?”

He grins proudly, “sure I could. None would as entertaining as you though.”

“Geez,” I mumble under my breath.

I pace outside the elevators as I wait for one to arrive and for Penelope to answer. Classic of her to text me non-stop but not to answer when I call her back. The elevator doors open and I step inside, ready to get out of here. I hit the ground floor and Colson strolls in lazily not rushed at all. He checks the button and doesn’t add any. The doors shut then silence sits flat in the small space with us. My phone buzzes continuously, I check the name at the top of the screen.

“Frickin’ frackin’!” I clench my teeth together in a growl.

Colson’s eyes widen at my sudden explosion. Closing my eyes, I exhale to calm myself then bring the phone up to my ear. Smiling helps to fake enjoyment when talking to someone on the phone. Sometimes I can fool myself into thinking I’m not miserable during discussions.

“Finn!” I greet. “What’s new?”

My southern accent surfaces. I flip the switch whenever I speak to my family or friends back in South Carolina. I can’t have them thinking I’m not the same Y/N from Charleston. Colson eyes me with his eyebrows raised, surprised by my sudden transition. He makes fun of me in a whisper for my fake enthusiastic voice. I wack him on the arm and it only encourages him more.

“Hi ya Y/N, uh so ya prolly already know butcha face is everywhere along with this MGK fella...” Finn’s voice falters at the end.

I sigh and press my forehead to the wall. Finn asks me if any of what he has read is true and I instantly deny.

My tone goes timid, “who all knows?”

“Just us, Odelle, Greyson and Myself,” he assures.

A sense of relief rushes over me. I turn back around and Colson sends me a sympathetic look, it shocks me. Going from mockery to sympathy from him has my entire mood shifting.

“What ‘bout Momma or Daddy?” I ask, keeping eye contact with Colson.

“Nah, at least I don’t think they do,” Finn guesses. “I’m not entirely sure. Greyson is sayin’ they don’t. He’s the only one that’s home at the moment.”

“Heavens to Betsy,” I exhale deeply, looking up to the heavens. “Let’s hope to the high heavens they don’t. Thank you Finn.”

I go to hang up but he says one last thing. Bringing my phone back up to my ear I reply. “Sorry, missed that.”

My brother becomes stern on the other side, “do you and this guy spend tons of time together?”

I shift uncomfortably, preparing myself for the older brother advice I already see coming. “From time to time but I promise, we’re just friends.”

There’s a pause on his end, an unbearable pause. “I trust you Y/N,” Finn finally speaks. “It’s him I don’t trust. He’s not the best sort of guy. Ya’ll aint right for one another.”

I hope Colson can’t hear any of what Finn is saying. To keep him from becoming suspicious, I keep my replies indifferent. “Sure thing. Uh, talk ya later Finn.”

“Bye, talk to you soon.”

We hang up and I slip my phone into my purse.

Colson leans back onto the railing next to me. “Who was that?”

“My older brother, kinda overbearing,” I laugh nervously then bite my lip. My accent begins to subside again.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Colson remarks.

A faint smile appears across my lips thinking of my brothers. “I have two actually and an older sister. The order is Finn, Odelle, me then Greyson.”

Colson returns a kind and gentle smile. “That must’ve been nice to grow up with so many siblings.”

“It was.” I nod as memories flash across my mind. “Finn and Odelle were grouped together and so was me and Greyson since our age gaps are less.”

As we pass each level on the elevator there is a “ding.” Facing toward the doors again, I absentmindedly watch the numbers go down as we pass the levels. My mind wanders to the many memories I’ve made with my brothers and sister.

“Finn is about Sam’s age, so he likes to believe he’s almost a co-parent for me and Grey,” I describe with a pleased expression. “He’s the total opposite of Odelle.”

Colson genuinely shows interest, “how is she?”

“She’s a total wild card! We all joke that it’s every other kid. Finn and I are the rule followers. He was student body president, quarterback of the football team and still managed to graduate with honors. I’m nowhere near him on the perfect child spectrum but I’m supposed to be “America’s Sweetheart.” My parents eat that up. Then there’s Odelle, she’s the total opposite of Finn. My parents had to beg her to improve her grades so she could graduate. I remember being twelve, it was the middle of the night when I got up to get a drink. I went downstairs and saw her sneaking out of the backdoor. She made me promise not to tell our parents. I haven’t talked about it until today. There were days she’d fake being sick just to ditch school with her friends. By her senior year nothing had changed. She ended up graduating but my parents forced her to go to a college close to home so they could keep an eye on her. Her antics continued the entire time I was in high school. College for her was a playground. For some reason, I envied her. I still do. I suppose it’s because no one expects anything from her. She messes up, well, that’s Odelle for you. She causes trouble, just another day. For me, my parents have me up on a peddle stool. By the time I turned sixteen people out here started taking notice of me. When I reached seventeen the title of “America’s Sweetheart” popped up and from then on, I was longer a teenager. I had a role to play and an image to uphold. I could never make mistakes like Odelle. I have to be “perfect” constantly. Sometimes I feel like a doll, plastic. None of it is real.”

The bell rings for the floor. I comprehend the words escaping my mouth and snap back to reality. I revealed so much about myself while I was in that daze, private facts about myself that I’ve never spoken of before.

Straightening up and adjust my dress, I apologize. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what came over me.” The doors slide open and I step out. “Good to see you Colson,” I rush out a farewell before speed walking towards the exit.

I mentally slap myself for all I confessed. If only Nicole found out, my head would be on a stick. My life, my background, every aspect of my being is supposed to be flawless. An All-American girl from South Carolina with a wholesome up brining is who I’m supposed to be. If word gets out that I’m not so perfect then… then I would be finished. My hand digs for my keys in my purse.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Colson jogs up next to me then steps in front of me, blocking my path.

“Colson, please....” I practically plead in a mutter, stepping around him.

He wraps his hand around my wrist, stopping me. “Let me buy you a drink!”

Workers around us walk around in multiple directions like zombies. I wonder if they’re taking notice. Hesitant, I narrow my gaze at me. The reason we’re in this mess is because we were seen with one another.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I admit and release myself from his grip.

I only make it a few feet before he’s in front of me again.

“Fine, no to a drink! How about we go get some coffee? Or tea? If you prefer tea!”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, his desperation is evident. The reason behind is desperation is still unknown to me, along with the reason he looked at me the way he did last night. Who is this mysterious man who stands before me? So many questions I wish to ask but I can’t get passed his eyes. Puddles of crystal blue settle on a white canvas. Confused beyond belief, for a reason unbeknownst to me, I accept. Could be my curiosity is getting the best of me.

“Coffee it is,” I give in to his request.

He grins ear to ear and steps to the side so we can leave side by side. “Unless of course you prefer we get tea!” he suggests, sounding a tad nervous.

Honestly I like both drinks but I prefer coffee. He holds the door for me and the bright sunlight of California weather strikes me.

“Nah, I normally drink a cold brew with a shot of espresso,” I describe.

He winces and pretends to gag. “Ew! That sounds horrible!”

“It gives you a boost in the morning! Nice and strong!” I laugh.

“You’re nasty!” He waves his hands in disgust.

“Eh, you’ve called me worse,” I laugh, unfazed by his insult.

He chuckles, “you’re not wrong.”

Our laughing dies down a little as we stroll over to the Starbucks. I peer up at him with a side eye. When our eyes meet we begin laughing again uncontrollably.

___________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @canyoubuymetoast @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa56 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxrl @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresixx @Thysagclub @hockeybabe87

#mgk smut #mgk imagine #mgk fanfic #mgk #mgk aesthetic #machine gun kelly #colson baker #colson #machine gun kelly fanfic #imagine #fanfic

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years

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Expectations were fairly high going into today’s episode of the Taskmaster podcast (s05e05), because Mark Watson was on the podcast a while ago and he was great. Mark’s first appearance was a very good episode in itself because Mark is a perfect guest for the Taskmaster podcast (at this point, I’m refusing to abbreviate it to “TMP” out of spite because it annoyed me that Ed kept trying to push that acronym on us for a while, even though would be easier to just write that); he’s very intelligent and insightful and knew what he was talking about, and listening to him talk about basically anything is entertaining. And I always like the podcast guests who talk about Taskmaster as though they’re analyzing an actual sport – Rose Matafeo, Richard Osman, and Josh Widdicombe have been great examples of that, in addition to Mark.

Mark’s first episode was good, but it also teased an even more exciting future appearance, because they said they’d have him back for the episode in which he stole Greg’s… for the duration of this post I’m going to say “trousers” because “pants” means something else in Britain so that can get confusing, even though I come from a place where no one says “trousers” unless they’re trying to make fun of someone else. Anyway, Ed said on Mark’s first appearance that he’d gotten a lot of emails about the theft of Greg’s “trousers”, but they wouldn’t discuss it, because they’d have Mark back on for s05e05, the episode in which the stolen goods were brought in, and they’d discuss it at that time.

That was six months ago, so they’ve been building up to this for a while. I went into this episode excited to both hear from Mark Watson again generally, and to finally hear the promised story of the heist. But honestly, I was expecting the latter to be more about the novelty than anything hugely new and exciting being revealed. How much backstory could there really be? Mark asked Ed to grab some trousers out of Greg’s dressing room, Ed did, Mark brought them into Taskmaster.

Well, I was wrong. The backstory we got about that theft blew my expectations out of the water, and made me more impressed that they resisted telling that story the first time Mark was on the podcast, because it turned out to be a fantastic story. I am so glad this podcast episode finally happened. Even if you don’t normally listen to the podcast, if you’re a fan of Taskmaster, I highly recommend at least listening to the prize task discussion in this episode to get that story.

For one thing, I’ve always pictured Ed stealing the trousers from a dressing room, and I’ve just realized that doesn’t make much sense because presumably they all have keys to their own dressing rooms but not to each other’s. On the podcast we learn that Ed stole them from Greg’s car, which makes more sense; it’s probably easier to get access to a friend’s car than a friend’s dressing room. We got a few more details about how the heist itself occurred, and the promise of a video taken during the event!

Apparently, Ed Gamble has spent the last four-ish years in possession of a video of himself stealing Greg’s trousers for Mark Watson’s prize task, and he’s only just now telling us about it! He also said he’d post it on Twitter, and I’m not even going to complain about the fact that Ed Gamble made me go on Twitter to find information again. To be fair, I don’t know how else Ed should have publicized that video, so I guess this is one instance in which using Twitter was actually the best option. There has only ever been one justified use of the Twitter platform, and it’s this absolute beauty. Twitter should only be for videos of Ed Gamble stealing items of clothing from Greg Davies. I love it. I love that you can hear the muffled noise of a gig in the background, because apparently Ed made the swap (as in, swapped the trousers from Greg’s car to Ed’s car) while Greg was on stage. I love the little thumbs up in front of the camera. I don’t know how Ed Gamble has waited this long to make that video public.

Having said that, I think by far the best part of the heist story that we got today was the background, including reading out the original Twitter DMs in which it was planned. Learning that the idea originated as a plan for a different task, and then morphed into this. Also, they glossed way too fast over the fact that it was originally made for a task in which they had to make predictions and then have those predictions come true, but that task was dropped because apparently Sally made a prediction that could be legally compromising. Mark claimed to not know what Sally’s disallowed prediction was, but someone fucking knows, and I would pay quite a bit of money for them to tell us. Even if it’s via Twitter.

I think my favourite part of the story was learning that Mark Watson basically lied to Ed Gamble to make that happen. If he didn’t outright lie, he at least very heavily implied that the task required him to steal something from Greg, and Ed clearly believed that. Mark clearly approached it that way because he knew it would get Ed on board more easily, and I am genuinely impressed by the calculated nature of that plan.

Anyway, that whole story was an absolute gold mine for a Taskmaster nerd, there was far more to it than I’d imagined and I enjoyed hearing about all of it. They could have just dropped that story and then phoned it in a little for the next 40 minutes and it would still have been a great episode, but of course they didn’t do that. The rest of the episode was great for the same reason why Mark Watson’s first appearance on this podcast was great, and it’s that Mark Watson is really good at saying interesting things in entertaining ways.

I hadn’t realized before this episode how much work Mark put into the show outside of the filming sessions. I mean, I’d realized it a bit, but I’d chalked it up to a sign of his friendship with Alex. I’d noticed the parallels in Mark sending Alex videos of sneezes and edited Wikipedia pages (defining “machines” as including hats), and thought that sort of thing is why it’s fun to have people who are close to Alex socially on the show. That’s the sort of thing you’d only get from someone who’s regularly communicating with Alex anyway and can easily throw in something like that.

But this episode did make me realize that it doesn’t just take a friend of Alex’s to do all that - it also takes someone who’s properly competitive and willing to try hard to win. I mean, Tim Key wasn’t sending in videos after he’d filmed his tasks. But Mark Watson did a lot of extra-curricular work. The cheeky texts, obviously. Organizing a trousers theft with Ed Gamble, which is even more impressive now that I know he didn’t even know Ed that well at the time (they said on the podcast that the heist was planned via Twitter DMs because Mark didn’t have Ed’s number). Reaching out to someone you don’t know well enough to have their phone number and asking them to steal shit for you is definitely going above an beyond. And then he tried to track a water cooler. Edited Wikipedia and took a week of sneezing videos. Put a lot of effort into all his prize tasks, not just the trousers. Paid 400 pounds for that light-up hat, for example. Registered his coconut as an official business and maintained a Twitter page for it. Apparently he also did a lot of work for that predictions task that ultimately got dropped, including trying to lure Nish Kumar to Belgium or some shit, and the upshot is that I’m very disappointed we don’t get to see that task. Until this podcast episode, I’d never really put all those things together in my mind and given Mark enough credit for how dedicated he was to trying to do well in this show.

The upshot is that I already liked Mark Watson a lot, but after this episode, my opinion of him has somehow shot up by a fair bit even from the high point at which it started. I think this has even left me with a greater appreciation for Ed Gamble, the show that is Taskmaster, and the entire concept of comedy. It’s a hell of an episode. Five stars, highly recommend.

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star-anise · 4 years

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Can you or someone kindly explain to me why violent riots are necessary? Why we apparently need to fight fire with fire? I just. Similar to your recently reblogged post, I cannot fathom how it is helpful. I understand that people are angry and they shouldn't be condemned in the way they are being condemned for property destruction (though people seem to forget that a lot of people, especially poor and disabled people, can't afford that) but like. What is this actually going to achieve?

The specific “point” of the current protests is addressing racist policing practices, an end to police brutality, and/or the abolition of the police, all of which have very actionable goals--for example, increasing crisis mental health resources, decriminalizing stupid shit that it doesn’t benefit society to police, changing how police are funded to de-incentivize unnecessary arrests or tickets, or increasing police accountability for harm. But I’ll address your question less as “what do these activists want to achieve” and more as “why are riots occassionally necessary praxis.”

The one thing I can’t comment on is how much the appearance of armed counter-protestors changes things. That’s new, partly in the last couple years and especially this week, and I haven’t got a solid grip on how that plays out. So I can just talk about my general knowledge.

The violence isn’t the inherently necessary part, it’s the protest. Protests and demonstrations are necessary; to create political change, it helps to demonstrate that a fuckload of people care deeply about this thing and are willing to take time out of their day to show that. It shows other citizens that this is an issue they could care about without being alone, and it shows the people in charge that if they don’t pay attention to this issue, a large proportion of their constituents are going to be unhappy. Sometimes the protest is also instrumental to the change, like occupying a building so it cannot be demolished, or occupying a road so that troop convoys cannot drive down it. My ex-girlfriend’s involved with a group that puts cups of paint on bike lane markers to demonstrate how frequently cars drive into bike lanes if they’re able to, in an attempt to get the city to invest in bike-friendly infrastructure. There are a lot of tactics out there.

Most protests are nonviolent and many are successful. They achieve small goals. An elected official may have so many people sitting in their office waiting room that they are forced to talk to them so that they go away and business as usual can resume. A cause may get on the news because people want to understand why a road was shut down or what all the people standing out there are talking about. People in power have to listen to activists and make concessions to them to make them go away. Stuff like that.

Some people believe that violence is intrinsically necessary--that’s the point of the Black Bloc, who think that property damage is a positive good in itself, or that nobody will listen unless you damage things and cost people money. That, to be honest, I... mmm. I think many people with violent leanings love violence in itself and will justify it more often than someone looking at the situation with dispassionate eyes will say, “What we need here is to break a bunch of shit.”

But the more common cause of violence in protests is when people want the protest to stop or go away. That is, when the elected official’s secretary says, “Look, he’s not going to meet with you, please leave,” or a boss says, “I’m not going to increase your wages, so go away and stop telling the customers about your grievances with me.” Part of what makes a protest successful is saying, “No, I’d really rather stand here and talk about my goals than go away and make your day easier.”

That’s when it escalates to force. When they call security or police to get them to force the protesters to leave. It turns into a game of chicken; as a protestor, it doesn’t do to show that you can be easily made to back down, but your opponents are going to use an increasing level of force to make you want to leave, or to physically remove you. And when that escalates--for example, when the riot squad shows up and starts physically attacking people--protestors often find that sitting there and letting someone attack you isn’t a good strategy; keeping yourself safe and continuing the protest are generally preferable. Responses can range from putting people who’d make the police look bad for attacking in front (people in wheelchairs, people in nice clothing, people with bicycles, Nice White People, whatever), to having medics on hand to treat people who have been injured, to using umbrellas to ward off tear gas, to, yeah, the use of violence in defense. If a cop is beating up your friend, and you can beat the cop up so they stop, that makes a material difference to your friend.

This is why even Fox News has slowly started to cotton on to the fact that forceful police responses to protests, like calling out the riot squad, are the key feature that escalate protests and turn them really nasty. Only a small number of people at any protests actually want things to turn violent or loot things; the majority of people would rather use peaceful means if they were available, but they’ve found that nothing else worked so now they’re protesting. But once people are under physical threat, they get scared and desperate, and things get ugly.

Especially at Black Lives Matter protests, the police often have a very direct and vested interest in making sure the protestors don’t get listened to. They don’t want to be criminally responsible for the things they do in the line of duty or have the news talking about what a bad job they’ve done. Therefore, there is a lot of incentive for police to make the protestors look bad--so they’re very likely to use police tactics that they know will escalate the situation and turn it violent. And since that’s the exact thing BLM protestors want to draw attention to, it to some degree proves their point to be able to demonstrate the police responding to nonviolent people with violence when the cameras are rolling.

#black lives matter #police brutality #staranise original #genderneutralnoun

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goblinconceivable · 3 years

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braindump: betty/daniel

I’ve been living with them for a while, notes taken, a few stories significantly started but there’s a gelling issue, which I’m hoping is at least partially down to a lack of proper braindumping. So, in no particular order and certainly not comprehensive:

Frankly I also got too hooked on the last 2 eps, which is likely where I’m blocked. It’s an abrupt emotional twist for them (esp Daniel), and in trying to make sense of that I’m losing focus on the 4 previous years.

- I’m a little bit obsessed in the scene where Betty tries to convince Matt she’s fearless by pointing out her bang-less-ness. And then runs into Daniel, who is at that moment half brain-washed, but yet when she asks about her fearless quotient his response is immediate and natural and entirely lacking in irony: “no bangs.” It’s a tiny little moment that shows how well he not only knows her, but understands her. Without judgment, without fanfare. Were I to have a husband, this is the sort of response that would confirm I’d married the absolute perfect guy for me.

- They’re too close for mirroring to be an important indicator, but there are two scenes that stand out in this vein: the first is when Betty thinks he may have pushed Christina down the stares and steals the video. She’s backing out the door, and he follows, matching her step for step. I love the direction choices because from her perspective there’s a sense of menace, Daniel as potential villain is stalking her. But from his guileless perspective he’s talking to her and if she’s moving, so is he. The second is from the penultimate, talking about Trista, where Betty’s rolling back and forth and he moves with her, rather than simply turning his head. It signals his full engagement in the conversation, seeking her attention, and is why the scene plays as flirting rather than their normal banter.

- That bulletpoint was getting a bit long, so second point on the flirting is that it plays against Betty shutting down the conversation “none of my business,” leading to the fight over involvement in each other’s personal lives, leading to the revelation that they know each other at that deep personal level so very, very well. Which was a very clumsy leadup to Daniel’s revelation during Hilda’s wedding speech, that could have been handled so much more deftly but those last two eps were quite rushed, I don’t know when they found out about the shortened season but it feels like they’d planned for more space and had to jab in exposition.

- Becaaaaause: they narratively broke his ‘aha’ moment onto “know you better than you do” while the strength of the message is really in the “do anything to protect them.” Which is, I believe, where they cut to his softened expression. Not coincidentally, this is precisely what a lot of fan-readings of the characters focus on: Daniel will do anything to protect Betty. Bobby might have said he’d throw himself under a bus for Hilda, but Daniel HAS done that for Betty- in fact literally doing so would probably have been easier than publicly shouldering the blame for the Tornado cover and giving away the profits. Due to the fact that he had time to consider the consequences and did it anyway.

- Which is tidy segue into an admission that I’m flying mostly blind on the Molly arc because I basically skipped all her scenes, but it’s my understanding that Daniel doing this was a pivotal moment for them. Ie, she was impressed that he did this thing. I mean, I really appreciate that he spent the whole press conference scene looking for Betty, so the show in no way undercut their relationship. But then they very clearly built the Molly relationship on the foundation of not only the man Daniel had become due to Betty, but choices he was making in large measure for Betty: it’s not that he saw Betty beaten down and resolved the situation: he was upset but lost, she yelled at him, and THEN he resolved the situation by taking the bullet. Did I break grammar by ending up with two colon’d clauses in the same sentence? It’s a braindump, ain’t gotta be pretty. XP

- Quick sidebar that the same thing happens with Alexis. She was expecting to come back to one brother, but then listens in on his pep talk with Betty and finds she’s returned to a different brother. This may be where I got the “an assistant” phrasing, if so, my bad. But basically, she was impressed with Daniel’s actions, not understanding that it was Betty specifically inspiring his actions.

- Follow that a step further and did Molly ever acknowledge how important Betty is to him? Legit question. I think her line here was about him doing it “for an assistant” (?) rather than even “his assistant,” establishing Betty as a non-entity for her. (Quoting a summary but I think I’m in the ballpark.) And I’m sure I’d have read about it somewhere if she brought Betty up during their discussion on who he’d date when she was dead.

- Just one last note on Molly, (okay it’s a multi-part though it veers off her as a character) but a possibly incorrect beef is that I hate the Daniel/Molly relationship because there’s no interesting or even real conflict? It’s perfect? I’m supposed to think this is magical “true love”? Molly has apparently been engaged for years to a man she doesn’t really love (and um... that’s lazy not strong), and helps inspire a vengeance filled betrayal by her ex because she’s so awesome everyone loves her? But she comes out squeaky clean because any emotional cheating on her part is balanced and thus “justified” by Connor falling for Wilhemina. And then the only “conflict” is that she’s dying, and is perfect throughout it? That’s... weak.

-That poem thing WOULD have been an interesting point of conflict but it was resolved by Betty’s intervention, rather than within the relationship. Which actually is an incredibly interesting beat. The problem with that being it’s so entirely consistent with the role Betty plays in Daniel’s life that it’s treated as just another beat, as if it doesn’t MATTER that a fundamental moment of intimacy and growth of vulnerability in Daniel’s very important romantic relationship is a door opened by a third party. There’s a strong argument to be made for something but I broke off to write the next point and now can’t remember what that strong argument is. I might remember later. It may have had something to do with Molly being a stepping stone in Daniel’s arc, but the cult-thing was so long and dominating that it didn’t work, it tied him too tightly for too long and coinciding with a loosening of his relationship with Betty there was flailing.

- Quick one: Daniel’s fast-forwarded and time-bounded relationship with Molly is the analog to Betty’s time-limited relationship with Henry. Which is a discussion I would like Daniel and Betty to have. Esp. noting that Betty and Henry had issues they worked through together (ice cream foreplay being one.)

- Player! So going back to a happy place, when Betty’s on the phone trying to fix the apartment situation and the camera pans onto Daniel just leaning against the doorway: this may be a legitimate little moment of “squee!” There’s so much denial in his laid back attitude at Player, but I still love watching how the informality of the environment reflects in the informality with Betty. He gives her free reign, and there’s many answers to “why,” and I (almost) don’t want to go into them because I totally adore how this Daniel is basically a College!Daniel only he’s latched onto Betty, who, meanwhile, is just being Betty. OMG how different his life would have been if he’d met Betty in college...

- Okay I actually don’t feel like going into whys, it’s just an arc to enjoy. With a small mention of how he TOTALLY was playing with the MODE book and handed it to Betty knowing she’d understand and use it to get them back in. Such a crazy subtle manipulation, to the point where I’m not sure it wasn’t almost entirely subconscious on Daniel’s part.

- The YETI recommendation letter. What I love is that this is another time when Daniel fvcks up, but fixes it, and more importantly displays competence and ingenuity alongside authentic caring and effort. Here’s the thing: YETI wanted Betty, even if it was just a quota thing (which it wasn’t entirely, at least one of the board was generally enthused.) So all that was necessary was to have them re-label her as from Player. Daniel knew this and did this. And told Betty that. BUUUUT that point was purposefully (by script and character) overshadowed by the gesture of the lengthy rec letter he put significant time into. Whose real audience was... wait for it... Betty. He even did a second draft! Which is more time and effort and a cleaner product.

- Also flaking on her practice run. I also enjoy how he (finally...) bounced back into the office clearly having forgotten her schedule, but having mentally shifted from Molly-space into Betty-space. He’s enthused, he’s engaged, he’s sort of bantering and I’d like to see where that scene would have gone if she hadn’t immediately gotten the acceptance call.

- So there’s this moment somewhat early on, pretty sure when Betty’s taking the writing class, and wants Daniel to give her feedback. And he’s all “why?,” coming from his “I don’t actually know what I’m doing” place. She responds that he’s her friend and wants to know what he thinks. And he does a little double-take at that word. Because until that point Daniel totally sees Betty as HIS Friend, and they’ve referred to each other as friends, with a little “f,” and he believes that. But it wasn’t until this moment that he even considered that HE might be HER Friend. Presumably because he doesn’t believe he has anything to offer her, beyond the power he holds as EIC and her boss - ie, “here run this show” and other such responsibilities.

- Which is a recurring theme. Pronounced on relationship stuff especially. When she asks him for input on the Henry vs Gio situation, when she’s trying to date the playwright. His response is always “I’m in no position to offer relationship advice/judgment on relationships.” He sorta dodges the first and is permissive on the second. I don’t know where to go with that so I’ll leave it (for now).

- When he was supposed to be in Rio, Betty wasn’t even at MODE, she was working for the “enemy,” and he was sending her regular postcards? First, they’d have been postmarked in New York and presumably with local stamps, so I’m not 100% on Betty not cottoning on. But it’s super cute that he was thinking of her when he was incommunicado with literally everyone else. Did he want her to figure it out (subconsciously)? It’s an act of reaching out, but also of convincing: he’s created a fictional narrative of being in Rio, fed and embellished by the media and swallowed by coworkers, but it’s through Betty that he’s establishing the fiction in a definitive way. He wants HER to believe it, because if SHE believes he’s there and having a good time, then he can believe it too, with a small piece of his imagination.

- Same convincing as in Player. BTW, how did all those messages on her phone work? He was 99% totally hiding the situation from her. a) why wouldn’t he just call her from his phone, as he always did in the past? b) he was creating another fictional space. Where her “number” was literally on a post-it on his temporary assistant’s monitor. It’s all play: “call Betty” happens many times, and every one is the act of doing it while knowing that he’s not really doing it. c) Betty does not point out that he should have been confused he never heard back, or more to the point, that he never heard her voicemail message. d) he was in a state of limbo waiting for her to come back, nothing is real until she does. At which point there’s lovely dramatic tension since he both wants her to fix it and get them out of there, and wants to draw her into this new reality and thus make it feel viable.

- 100th Anniversary edition. I love the idea that he’s hep on her writing his bio because he needs her name, at least, to be next to his. His identity as EIC is predicated on her being his partner, and needs that shown, even if it’s functionally an “in joke” because it’s not like she can be featured. In musing over his thoughts while flipping through the book right before deciding to quit, I usually come back to a realization of the transience of the role, but I want it to be a gutpunch of how he assumed, without being aware, that Betty would be next to him in picture, and that’s what they were heading for.

- I’ve actually got through most of my notes, so just a couple more. Daniel is super impressionable. He did what Becks told him to in the pilot. He did what Natalie told him in the cult-situation. Both against his better judgment - his look after Betty when he kicked her out for being “drama he didn’t need” - that’s the same look when he told her to clock out and was dragged off by the not-16-year-old. I’m too tired to go check the pilot, but assuming similar look there. He does what he’s told by anyone telling him to do something, but he WANTS to be rescued from the bad influences, who are so often so forceful.

- Final scene: okay so it turns out quick a lot of my thoughts are trying to understand Daniel. His growth is blatant and deep. So a second round will be more Betty-focused. ‘Cuz I identify strongly with her and don’t have a lot of surface questions about her motivations, but I’m LOST on side of the romantic coin. And plus she deserves a close look regarding how she grows during the series.

- I watched at least part of the reunion and very much like how AF answered the question of the final scene versus what EM says. Because I think they each, as actors, see it from the perspective of their characters, which means it was played authentically and grants insight. AF basically says that she saw it as Daniel coming to say thank you, and how it came down to Betty teaching him that he was good enough. Which came across a little funny because her phrasing implied they’d never talk or see each other again or something and that’s an alarming finality. But also implies that Betty really did see moving to London as a significant parting of ways, something that started as soon as she became an editor and their relationship changed. Probably before.

- She then challenged EM as to why Daniel didn’t say goodbye (as if she didn’t know and hadn’t thought about it? I’m guessing this was panel performance: asking the question “in character” and throwing the question to the other relevant actor.) But anyway, EM’s answer was “Because things were just starting.” Which is blatantly a shippy answer, and he even explains Daniel’s “revelation” as when he “really saw Betty for the first time through and through.”

- At some point in these things you’re like: oh but I thought of something else, and only stop when your brain falls asleep.

- I thought of something else. And then I forgot it. My brain is failing! But not yet failed.

- After Betty gets her braces off there’s this scene near the end, at the shoot. Daniel sees her and crosses quite purposefully to talk with her. He wants to banter and share this exciting moment with her. And the scene goes a little strange when Betty kinda goes “yeah, going now bye.” I expected more eye contact, a big smile, more conversation. That’s Betty. That’s them. But instead it’s a little awkward so Something Is Happening Here. Is she self-conscious? Did she see and hear something in Daniel’s look and comment right after she was detached from the bra and isn’t at this moment comfortable with him? Is this all fallout from her dream in which she and Daniel slept together/he thought she was a bad person/rejected her only they chose not to explicate this/cut a useful scene/thought I’d get that right away but I’m obtuse? I don’t think it’s the last one because while I can be horribly obtuse, I don’t think it was coded. But that’s what the obtuse would say.

- At any rate they don’t pick up on it again, next scene (next ep) they’re back to normal.

- But Daniel does immediately chase after Amanda and let go of her. Which is payoff for his convo with Betty earlier where she sort of disdainfully asks if he WANTS a more serious relationship with Amanda. I did sort of wonder if he actually does, but Betty’s judgmentalness is what convinces him he doesn’t. Usually I’d say Betty understands him so well she knows he doesn’t, but they’re not as close at this point, Betty is living her own life much more, so I dunno.

- But I don’t actually think Daniel was falling for Amanda, or that the show wanted us to think that was ultimately a viable path. Because of that moment when he’s in a car, calls Amanda, says “I really need to see you” and she turns him down. It parallels his text to Betty when Molly died. One text and Betty came over. This was an actual distressed voice convo and Amanda doesn’t care enough about him to be there, which is really great development for Amanda even though we don’t see her! She previously went after Matt when he was in jail, she’s interested in Tyler here, she’s not totally pining for Daniel!

- Daniel of course was using Amanda and their earned if mild emotional intimacy as a crutch, trying to fill the space Betty left. Also note when Amanda turned him down for sex and he stayed to “hang out,” - this is not supposed to be an analysis of Amanda but I wanna note I like that moment because it felt like she was pleased to think she wasn’t just sex to him, while still being over him romantically. Because she does care about him.

- Or for pete’s... I have this bad habit of writing notes which I later look at and am like... “huh?” This is a fic idea, from Daniel’s POV: “Betty had moulded him, often by sheer force of her iron will, into being a man who almost deserved Molly. And he'd turned right around and become a man who would never deserve Betty.” And I DON’T REMEMBER WHAT THE SECOND HALF MEANS. Specifically.

- Wedding dancing. Happens twice. Hilda’s wedding, we know what that is. But at Daniel’s wedding. I like that he wasn’t 100% Molly focused, ‘cuz, shipper. And I know why the show had Matt cut in, because gotta keep things moving. But isn’t it a thing that you don’t cut in on the groom/bride? It’s their day. Daniel just sort of nonverbally asks Betty if it’s okay (to leave her with Matt), but can’t help a) thinking he was a bit put out and b) want Molly to see his expression looking at Betty and have some sort of “aha” moment where she - do Molly and Betty have any scenes together? I don’t remember seeing any and I think I did skim through all the eps, but I need to do that again.

- Ooh, one of the things I forgot en route! I like that Betty has revolving love interests, because that’s textual argument for Betty never having feelings (romantic) for Daniel. Which is super, super important in this iteration of the story. There’s a couple moments - pilot and the first bridge scene - where she arguably has a momentary crush, which quickly settles into a developing platonic relationship.

- Jump back to Daniel finally seeing Betty as a true equal = romantic feelings. It’s a thing. Look my brain is deteriorting and wording is hard! So there’s two sided imbalance throughout. Daniel always saw Betty with this veneer of youth, and a great deal of his use for her is helping her “grow into the woman she’ll be.” And that’s the roadblock in him seeing her as a romantic possibility. Which was initially quite awesome because he was sleeping with people younger than her, even the “she’s actually 20″ girl was younger than Betty. And yet always saw her as in many ways more mature and competent than her. And double-yet he still saw how much further she could, and would, grow. His belief in her knows no bounds.

- Meanwhile Betty sees him as... someone who’s also becoming. Who has great potential. Bullying him into it if necessary. And because he’s guided by her, she can’t crush on him, he’s like her pet. Were she to have a crush, much less fall for him, it would have been horrifying. She needs to have a moment when she sees him as a true equal, someone who - look, everyone is always still growing so it’s not like he needs to be fully formed, and it’s a little murkier what the moment would look like when she finally sees Daniel “for the first time.”

- ‘cuz as noted, Betty has been there for pretty much every important moment of growth and crossroads in every facet of Daniel’s life. Whereas Betty consistently had many things and relationships in her life Daniel was not involved in. She’s always been way more self-reliant (not the word I wanted, is there one that starts with c?) It’s why they did sort of need to peel away through a chunk of S4, because Daniel needed to learn to cope without Betty propping him up, because it’s like a Miranda-thing:

- “I don’t need Gary. But I want him.”

- Daniel has to be able to be find without Betty before Betty can see him as a viable romantic partner. She has to see something she never has before. Daniel saw that the seedling he’d been protecting was not only strong enough to survive on its own had grown up and bloomed (process begun early in the season when he was being overprotective and she shut that down). For Betty... I guess Daniel... ... ..... it didn’t happen in the show. As EM noted, for Daniel, the ending was the beginning. Because his moment isn’t leaving MODE, that’s just the corresponding moment to Betty shaking him off. His moment is further down the road when he puts into practice everything he’s learned and ... something answered in fanfic because it’s spec and I’m tuckered.

#daniel x betty #detty #ugly betty #meta #braindump #my brain literally has nothing except #i got nothing #what a satisfying feeling #to have removed everything and set it in a magical tardis of a post

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vlovers19 · 3 years

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After watching The Soop and hearing JK admit his and Tae's relationship was not the same and even said awkward at times & The fact that Jimin was some how in the middle of sitting those two down to talk. It makes me wonder if both have feelings for Jimin and it put tension/strain on Vkooks friendship and Jimin was tired of being in the middle and sit them down. I just keep thinking about Tae being passive aggressive not once, but twice, about JK not letting Jimin hangout. You think it's possible

There are various possibilities. What you just said is one of such possibilities. Many people will view this situation in different ways. Some say they drifted apart because Taekook broke up and didn't know how to communicate with each other, after wards causing an awkwardness in their relationship. Some say one of them wanted their friendship to progress further but the other refused. There are also talks that Jungkook and Jimin are dating so this doesn't sit well with Taehyung which causes both he and Jungkook to become distant or it's the other way around. Now, when we consider all of these, what are we to believe?

From what I could deduce from Taekook's conversation, these awkwardness became more prominent due to the covid19 when everyone started being on their own but i know Jimin is definitely not the reason why they drifted apart. If he were, Bts would have long disbanded. Not one of them would have been able to handle the love triangle. It's not even something you can come to a compromise over. You can't even pretend you're okay with it because you see them every day and the realization that the one you like doesn't like you back feels like you are loosing your breath. It can literally make you go crazy. If you have been in a one sided love, i think you'll understand what I'm talking about. Even if none of them are dating, it's still going to be difficult working together and no matter how much they settle their differences, they are still bound to have confrontations from time to time that might even escalate to a full blown out fist fight. Fighting for love is no small matter. It can cause an irreparable damage to their relationship.

If the reason for them drifting apart was because of Jimin, it wouldn't be just Taehyung and Jungkook having the discussion, it would be the three of them but in a private setting away from the cameras and away from everyone else where they can air their grievances but unfortunately get hurt again and again because nothing good will come out of it. Even if it's just the two of them talking about how to resolve the tension with Jimin, they wouldn't do it there out in the open. Something that private should be kept that way... private.

Justifying the possibility of Jimin coming in between Taehyung and Jungkook because Taehyung got passive agressive over Jikook spending time together is not feasible. Everyone knows that Jimin and Taehyung have stopped doing vlive together. It has been for a long while now, more than four years and it's for reasons best known to them. I won't be surprised if when one is having his vlive, the other knows where to disappear to. I also think that Taehyung mentions Jimin when he responds to fan's questions concerning Jimin whereabouts. The second time when he mentioned that Jungkook wouldn't let Jimin come and do the live with him. I somehow saw it as an excuse for him not to invite Jimin over. (I have no idea why they are so against doing vlive together. What's the big deal?)

However, we know he and Jimin spend time together. They have both personally admitted how they sneaked away from the dorms to spend time with each other. Let's not forget when Taehyung said he invited Jimin to come over to his room at around 3 to four am in the morning on the day they got number one on the billboards music charts but according to him, Jimin refused.

(The happenings that took place that day are still suspiciously unclear and very confusing because none of the statements correlated so I am very unsure about what really transpired that day)

However, the fact that he could tell Jimin to come to his room at such an odd hour shows that they do spend time together and it's quite a frequent habit but let's get back to Taekook.

Let's start from the beginning. Taehyung and Jungkook used to be very close during their debut days. Jungkook had a lot to be grateful to Taehyung for because he helped him to overcome his shyness. Just fifteen years old, far away from home and confused, Jungkook found a family in the members most especially Taehyung who we all know is a social butterfly. They were so close that they even formulated a hand shake signal exclusively for the two of them. (Betrayal occurred because Taehyung later taught Jimin that very hand shake signal).

However, over time changes started to happen but the one who changed the most was Taehyung. He started getting quieter. Started having other celebrity friends. I think this came about mainly due to the popularity Bts started to gather. They started to get more busy with their lives and soon, just getting to do the simplest things like watching a movie became quite difficult.

Jungkook is a very conservative person. He could stay indoors all day and never come out. He is satisfied just stuck in his room. This is a fact acknowledged by not only Jungkook but by the rest of the members.

Someone like that wouldn't take the initiative first in a relationship. If you care enough, the other party would have to take a step much like how Taehyung did later on. I also think this is one of the reasons Jimin and Jungkook are so close. Jimin understands Jungkook's nature so he takes the initiative when it comes to their relationship. If he just leaves things as they are, then they would have drifted apart like Taehyung and Jungkook did.

I think Taehyung felt the need to talk to Jungkook especially in the soop. Being in an environment where they weren't doing anything official, where they weren't preoccupied with work like they usually are and were just lazying around doing domestic things and being normal probably made him realize how his relationship with Jungkook has deteriorated especially since the covid19 started. He could have felt guilty about the direction their relationship had gone and as the elder, decided to take the initiative. Using Jimin was more easier because he's closer to Jungkook and Taehyung felt awkward approaching him first. You can tell by the way he was acting like a teenager all the time he was waiting for Jimin to bring Jungkook out to meet him.

I think the reason why that moment was broadcasted was because it was a very crucial time and was bound to make people react. it was also going to explain the reason why Taehyung and Jungkook seemed distant and not as close as before. I think they felt the need to address the issue. This could have been brought about due to a decision by the editors

However, one interesting thing to note was how Jimin and Jin kept lingering around and playing ball around them while they were having a deep discussion. They didn't seem to be cautious about how they were throwing that ball around, almost as if they were deliberately trying to distract their conversation.

I kept asking myself.

What were they even doing there?

Why did they think it was okay to start playing ball during that time? And at night?

Maybe they were curious and they wanted to somehow spy on what they were talking about? Or they just wanted to stick around? Maybe we shouldn't read too much into this because we can't possibly tell what they were thinking. Thanks for the ask.

This is edited.

#Vmin #jimin #Taehyung #bts #jimin and Taehyung

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quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Licked

🎉🎉🎉Happy birthday to the woman who started it all (at least started the LBSC exchange where I met all these wonderful crazy people to enable and be enabled by) @justknitstuff / @chromemist ! 🥳 This one’s just for you. Sounds like things have been crazy lately and I hope this makes your day a little bit happier.

Aged-up Lukanette, alternate first meeting

Rated TL for thirsty Luka lol...but there’s nothing explicit or above a T rating. Just a lot of ogling and some innuendo.

Luka’s been Jagged Stone’s guitarist for a couple of years now, and he’s seen lots of things. Weird things. Exciting things. Fun things. Not so fun things.

But Luka’s never seen anything like the designer Jagged flew in a few days ago. Unfortunately for his smitten heart, their first run-in (literally) didn’t go too well, so he’s hoping for a chance to smooth things over. A trip to the zoo, while unexpected, seems like the perfect chance...if he can stop ogling her long enough to remember how words work.

Being Jagged Stone came with a lot of perks.

Being Jagged Stone’s guitarist came with less (and a lot more headaches), but sometimes things trickled down, and so Luka found himself walking through the Australia Zoo, trailing at the back of Jagged’s entourage. The rock star had been invited for a private tour of the zoo, famous for its crocodiles, and Jagged had insisted on bringing “a few of his favorite people” along. (A few was really more like twenty, but when you’re Jagged Stone, nobody does a head count.)

It should have been really cool. Luka loved animals and hadn’t been to a zoo in years, let alone one as big and famous as the Australia Zoo. They’d been brought in through a back entrance, and shown some really cool behind-the-scenes stuff, and the rumor was they were going to get to be more hands-on with the animals than was typically allowed.

Except Luka hadn’t really seen any of the animals they’d been supposed to look at that day, because a week ago, Jagged had flown in a stylist from Paris for some emergency or other. Her work done, she’d been invited along on this tour with them, and Luka was having a hard time looking at anything else.

He’d met her shortly after she arrived, on the tour bus. She’d tripped coming down the steps just as he had started up, and she’d nearly taken him down with her, but Luka had managed to get a hold on the hand rail and keep them both from what would surely have been a painful fall. She’d been awfully embarrassed, and in the midst of some very confused introductions, Luka had made some stupid joke that had only made things worse, and she’d fled from him in a chaotic whirlwind of flustered adorable that had made it necessary for him to sit down on the steps for a moment to calm his pounding heart.

He’d only caught glimpses of her since then as she worked frantically to get Jagged ready for the finale show of this stop on the tour. As cute as she was, and as smitten as Luka had been in that short meeting, he hadn’t dared flirt with her while she was working on such a tough deadline, so other than volunteering to take her food or drinks when craft service brought them in, he’d stayed out of the way. She always flashed him a distracted (stunning) smile when he dropped off her food, but she’d been far too busy for anything more. Luka wasn’t entirely clear on why Jagged needed the new outfit so badly and so immediately, but it was Jagged and nobody even bothered to wonder why he did the things he did anymore.

Besides, no one could deny that the outfit, when it had finally debuted, had been amazing. Unlike most people, Luka had the opportunity to see it up close and take in all the details that would, unfortunately, probably be lost under the heavy lights of the stage. Even so, it was designed to look stunning under those lights, and on camera, and anyone admitted to the privilege of actually meeting the rock star in it would be all the more dazzled.

Luka certainly was. Far more than was really justified by what little contact they had, honestly, but Luka was used to trusting his intuition, and his gut (he was pretty sure it was his gut, though other parts certainly had plenty to say) was telling him that this girl was something special.

This should’ve been the perfect chance to talk to her, smooth things over, make a better second impression, pour on the charm. It would’ve been easier if he had his guitar, but still, he should have been able to make this work.

Except summer in Australia was hot. Luka had ditched his hoodie almost the second they’d gotten off the plane. Even his well-ventilated jeans got swapped for a pair of board shorts at his first opportunity.

So naturally, she was wearing shorts as well, and for such a short woman, she had gorgeous legs. Even her feet were cute in little flowered sandals he suspected she’d decorated herself. It didn’t get any better (or rather, it only got better) when he dragged his eyes above her waist. Her flowy, off-the-shoulder peasant top was somehow completely modest and unbearably sexy at the same time. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, with little tendrils sticking to her neck and bare shoulders or waving on the breeze as she fanned herself with the zoo map.

It was all Luka could do not to ogle her like a creep. How he was ever going to manage to talk to her, he had no idea.

So he hung back, trying to get his bearings and find his usual chill, while his bandmates shot him knowing grins and snickered behind their hands. They didn’t dare embarrass him too publicly, though. Luka had been participating in the annual Couffaine prank war since he was a kid and he was very creative when it came to revenge.

It wouldn’t be that hard to shove one of them into the croc pen, he was sure. Just as an example to the others.

Busy contemplating his retaliation, he stopped automatically when the group stopped, and didn’t realize he was standing behind Marinette until she turned suddenly, brow slightly furrowed in thought, and promptly tripped over his foot and tipped forward with a yelp.

“Whoa!” Luka’s arm shot out and he caught her around the waist, stopping her from falling, but she must have been startled by the sudden grab, because she tried to push him away and nearly fell again in the process. Luka didn’t let go, instead planting his feet to steady her. It only took a moment for her brain to catch up with what was happening and she stopped struggling. Instead, she babbled a breathless apology in rather confused English, and Luka grinned as he levered her back upright.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said in French, keeping his hands on her waist for a moment longer to make sure she was steady before drawing back. “I wasn’t paying attention either. Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said, pushing her hair back from her forehead as she gave him an embarrassed smile. “I’m fine. Thank you. Sorry. Um, again. Thanks. Luka, right? I’ve been meaning to say thanks for everything this week too. I probably would have starved if you weren’t looking out for me, so...” She broke off to suck in a breath and gave an embarrassed smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Luka replied. “For both. Although Penny orders the food, I’m just the delivery boy.” He grinned at her, and she started to smile back before her eyes widened slightly and she whirled.

“Um, we should catch up with the others?” she blurted. They had fallen a bit behind, and Marinette took off in a power walk that caught her up with the group in no time.

Luka trailed behind, a little deflated. He’d barely even said anything that time, but she’d run away again. Maybe...maybe he should just back off. If she wasn’t interested in him then—but for a second there, he’d thought...

He continued to linger at the back of the group, not approaching Marinette or trying to get near her. They came to another enclosure, and Luka leaned his elbows on the concrete wall of the enclosure, trying to find his enthusiasm for the trip. Below him in the pen, dingos yipped and frolicked, tackling each other and then sprinting around the pen. He had to smile, watching them.

To his surprise, Marinette came up and stood next to him. She shot him a quick, hesitant smile, which he returned automatically, and then stood on her toes a little to peer over the barrier into the cage, leaning her hands on the wall next to him. She gave him another quick smile as she settled back on her heels.

“They’re cute,” she murmured, and then blushed and looked away.

“They look like they’re having a good time,” Luka observed, and she made a noise of agreement. An awkward silence fell between them. Luka’s face was turned towards the dogs below them, but he was watching Marinette out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure her out and not dwell on how much he’d like to nip along the pretty line of her jaw to her neck—

His salvation came when he caught her eyeing his arms as he leaned on the rail. He’d cut the sleeves off this t-shirt years ago, and he was reasonably sure that the flush on her face wasn’t just the heat. Luka turned his face away for a moment to hide his smirk, and the little ego boost was just what he needed to untie his tongue.

But before he could come up with something to say, Marinette did.

“That’s the tour shirt from what, eight years ago?” Marinette asked, leaning back slightly to look at the dates down the back.

“Yeah, I’ve had it forever,” Luka shrugged, pleased by the way her eyes followed the motion of his shoulders. “As you can probably tell.”

“At least it’s good ventilation in this heat,” Marinette quipped, reaching out to pluck the ragged edge of one of the tears on the side.

“Definitely an advantage,” Luka agreed, with a wink. “Not as stylish as yours, though. That’s a cute top. I like the ruffles.” That wasn’t too weird, was it? She was a fashion designer after all. Luka didn’t know anything about fashion but she certainly looked good in it.

“I’m not very rock ‘n roll, I know,” she said, wrinkling her nose, glancing down at herself. Cute. “But it’s me, and that’s what matters.” She tossed her head and scrunched up one shoulder, giving a look that dared him to argue.

“You’re perfect,” Luka smiled, and the pink on her cheeks grew a little darker. “You’re from Paris, right? I think Jagged said so?” he added quickly, afraid he’d made her uncomfortable. Marinette nodded, and he grinned at her, leaning back on the barrier again. “Me too. Well, sort of. We moved around a lot when I was younger but we’ve been settled in Paris for a long time.”

“That explains why your French is so good,” Marinette giggled. “I’d wondered.” She settled against the rail next to him and nudged his shoulder slightly with her own. “I bet the American ladies love your accent.”

Oh God, she was flirting with him, and it was adorable. Luka suppressed the urge to squeal like a teenage girl as he looked down at his hands, grinning. “Maybe. Just my luck the only girl I’ve met worth impressing happens to be French.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing so he could pretend not to notice the choking noise she made.

“Honestly,” he began, when he thought she had recovered, “I kind of have a habit of putting my foot in my mouth. Like when we met. I’ve been wanting to apologize for that. I didn’t mean to upset you or make you feel bad. Sometimes I’m thoughtless without meaning to be, so. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Marinette ducked her head slightly. “That’s all right. The stuttering, the word jumbling, it’s something that happens when I’m nervous. I should be used to it by now. I shouldn’t have been so sensitive, just—”

“No, wait. I really wasn’t trying to make fun of you, but I was out of line and you had every right to be mad at me,” Luka said, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.”

Marinette stared at him for a moment, and then smiled. “Thank you. I, um, accept your apology.”

“Thank you,” Luka grinned, letting his hand fall from her shoulder. “So. How long have you known Jagged?”

“I’ve been working for him off and on for almost ten years now,” Marinette told him, as they turned away to follow the group towards the next exhibit.

“That’s pretty impressive,” Luka said, and meant it. “I’ve only been with him for the last couple of years. I’m not sure I could take a decade of that.” He waved at Jagged, who was bouncing along at the front of the group, loud and gesturing broadly, chattering excitedly with their hosts (who might be the only people on the planet as croc-mad as Jagged).

Marinette giggled and warmth filled him, entirely different from the heat of the sun on their backs or the way he’d felt when he saw her in those shorts. “You get it in more concentrated doses than I do,” she pointed out. “You’re stuck with him for months at a time. I mostly get video calls, plus one or two unannounced visits and the occasional demand to fly out and design something for him.”

“Like now?” Luka asked, and Marinette nodded.

“I don’t know what they tried to make him wear but apparently it was not acceptable and he needed somebody who gets him,” she said, tone cheerful though she rolled her eyes. “I don’t really mind this time. It got me out of another project that I really didn’t want to do, and Jagged pays well. It doesn’t hurt my portfolio either.” She winked at him and he was pretty sure it stopped his heart for a moment.

“I bet,” Luka grinned, a beat later than he should have. “Jagged’s not an easy man to please.”

“You should know,” Marinette teased, leaning towards him, and then she seemed to catch herself and turn her attention back to the animals, cheeks reddening.

Luka was still grinning as he looked back as well, not really seeing them. Something caught his eye to his other side, and when he looked, he found his bandmates making kissy faces and gesturing rudely. Luka raised his eyebrows at them in warning, and they fell to snickering. Luka rolled his eyes and turned toward Marinette, set on ignoring them, but she had pulled a small notebook from her bag and was sketching one of the flowers planted along the concrete barrier. Luka sighed, but opted not to disturb her.

They were ushered on, and Luka had an easier time getting into the trip now that he’d at least cleared the air with Marinette. When he ended up next to her again, she shot him a quick smile, too excited at the prospect of holding a koala to pay him much attention. Luka didn’t mind; her enthusiasm was cute, he was really kind of excited to hold a koala himself, and he was the one she turned to at the last second, shoving her phone in his hands and begging him to take her picture. He did, grinning stupidly the whole time at her sparkling eyes and beaming smile, and took one with his own as well, “just in case.” Marinette happily returned the favor, and it wasn’t as hard as it should have been for Luka to ignore his bandmates behind her making crude gestures and pretending to cheer him on. Clearly he’d been too easy on them the last few months. As they moved on Luka made a mental note to plan a particularly creative revenge. He had to find a way to ditch those jackasses before they ruined everything.

He saw his moment when they finally reached the famous crocodile paddocks, and the family took Jagged with them into the pen, since he was “an experienced crocodile handler” (“Have they met Fang?” Luka murmured to Marinette, who giggled). By now rumors of the rock star’s presence had circulated and there was quite a crowd jamming up against the barriers to see him—and Jagged never could resist a crowd. Before long, an impromptu croc show was on, and it became obvious the tour wasn’t going to continue any time soon.

Marinette sighed at his elbow and folded her arms, pouting slightly, and Luka quickly assessed his options. Excusing himself, he worked his way through the crowd of bystanders to Penny, who was somehow managing to look both bored and stressed out at the same time. She barely acknowledged his “Hey, Penny,” when he sidled up next to her.

“I was just wondering,” Luka said, brushing sweat-damp hair off of his forehead. “It looks like Jagged’s gonna be a while and Marinette’s looking pretty—” Don’t say hot! “—uh, warm standing out here in the sun, so…” He faltered for a moment as Penny turned away from Jagged to look directly at him, eyes narrowing. She saw right through him, he was sure. He swallowed his nerves and went on. “I was, um, thinking maybe I could take her to find some shade and maybe buy her something to drink and some ice cream, and we can meet back up with you guys in a bit?”

Penny stared at him for a moment, and Luka looked back as impassively as he could. She looked toward Marinette over his shoulder, and Luka couldn’t help glancing back. Marinette’s cheeks were still bright pink and she was fanning herself with her map again.

“Couffaine,” Penny said in a warning voice, and Luka turned back to her with a sigh.

“Penny come on,” he said in a low voice. “Even rock stars don’t meet a girl like that every day.”

Penny’s lips pressed together, and her eyes flicked to Marinette again before fixing back on Luka. “You know she’s flying out tomorrow,” Penny said, her voice unexpectedly gentle.

Luka rocked back on his heels slightly, and took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Tomorrow. That meant his only shot for a date was tonight. If he didn’t at least get her number by the end of the day, she’d walk out of his life and who knew when he’d see her again, and that just wasn’t acceptable.

He focused back on Penny and flashed a smile. “Then I better not waste any time, huh?”

Penny sighed, and then reached around him and snatched the zoo map out of his back pocket. She clicked her pen, then circled a place on the map and slapped it against his chest. “You have two hours. Meet us there and don’t be late.”

Luka took the map and tucked it back into his pocket. “Thanks, Penny.”

She sighed. “Good luck,” she muttered, turning back to Jagged.

He went back to Marinette, blowing out another deep breath and trying to look relaxed as he approached her. Nothing to lose and everything to gain. Time to bring your A-game, Couffaine.

“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” he asked, when she looked up at his approach. “Penny told me where to meet them later, and as entertaining as it might be to watch Jagged get eaten by a crocodile, I’m pretty sure he’s too lucky for it to actually happen. What do you say we go get something to eat and see the rest of the zoo?”

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile and he walked off at her side, flipping off his bandmates behind her back as they passed.

Marinette relaxed almost immediately, away from the crowd, and Luka winced internally, afraid she might have noticed some of the teasing. “Sorry if the guys have been giving you a hard time,” he said, as casually as he could. “They’re a bunch of clowns but they’re mostly harmless.”

“Oh, they’re fine,” Marinette shrugged, smiling up at him. “They seem nice enough, just...loud. It’s always loud around Jagged. It gets to be a bit much sometimes. I don’t know how you stand it. You don’t seem very loud yourself, except when you’re on stage.”

“I’m not,” Luka admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Never have been, except on stage. I’m used to the chaos, though. Ice cream?”

Marinette brightened. “Sure!”

The ice cream might have been a mistake, Luka reflected a short time later. Marinette’s mouth was gorgeous. Celebrities paid good money for lips like that, and watching them glide along her spoon was only half as torturous as watching her lick at the ice cream directly, trying to sweep up the melting drops running down the side.

Luka quickly took a bigger bite of his own than was wise, and gritted his teeth against the resulting brain freeze. Marinette laughed at the face he made, and that brought him back to a place where he could at least speak normally to her. For a while, they stayed on neutral topics, chatting about their families and careers in between cooing over the animals. Marinette was sharp, and entertainingly witty when she didn’t think too hard and trip over her tongue.

Luka was catching her rhythm, now. She skittered away from him when she got overwhelmed or felt she’d been too daring, but as long as he waited, she’d sidle back, settle back into shy flirting that would gradually grow bolder, until something tipped her over the edge and she ran away again. Luka adjusted to suit, letting her have her space when she needed it, easing off his teasing when she returned until she found her footing again. He was enjoying it, actually, now that he knew she wasn’t actually scared or put off by him; he got a charge out of it when he flustered her and she fled, and an equally powerful feeling when she came back to him.

The rest of the afternoon was a series of exquisite moments. Standing a little too close, leaning into each other’s space more than was necessary to read a sign or peer into an exhibit. Shy looks that grew slowly bolder and smiles that turned into soft giggles. A burst of triumph when he took her hand and she slid her fingers between his. The flutter of excitement he felt when she leaned against his arm to point something out, and then rested her cheek on his shoulder instead of pulling away. A look up at him, and a dip of his head that might have become a kiss if not for a rush of small, screaming children bumping into their knees.

They made it to the giraffe pavilion Penny had circled on the map a little ahead of the others, and Luka knew he’d better say what he needed to say quickly. The employee at the doors let them in and led them to the giraffe feeding area, giving them each a handful of lettuce, and went back outside to wait for the rest of the group. Another bored-looking employee was leaning against the back wall, but he didn’t seem to be paying them any attention.

Marinette was back to the bubbly sort of excited she’d been when they held the koalas, and Luka was loving every moment of it, but he knew the clock was ticking. He took a breath and stepped close, reaching over her to offer some lettuce to the giraffe. The giraffe sniffed it, and then dipped its head to take the lettuce from Marinette instead.

Marinette giggled, looking up to scrunch her nose at him. “I think he likes me.”

“No doubt,” Luka said, offering her his handful of lettuce, and not noticing when a leaf dribbled out of the side of the giraffe’s mouth above him and landed in his hair. “I know I do.”

Marinette blushed, and gave him another look over her shoulder, reaching up to the giraffe with another section of lettuce.

“Luka Couffaine, are you hitting on me?” she asked, the quirk of her smile suggesting the idea wasn’t unwelcome.

“I’ve been trying my best,” Luka chuckled, and then grew serious, reaching for her hand to turn her to face him. “You’re really special, Marinette. I know you have pretty much no reason to take me seriously, but believe me, I don’t get this way about just anyone.” Here goes nothing. “I’ve had a crush on you pretty much since you crashed into me on the bus, and it’s getting worse by the minute. I’ve had a great time with you today, and I’m really hoping it doesn’t have to stop.”

For a moment she seemed to glow, and Luka’s breath caught, but then she paused and her face fell. “I’m flying out tomorrow,” she said, dropping her eyes as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well,” Luka said, leaning in a little. “That still leaves tonight.” Marinette’s eyes blew wide and Luka’s did too as his own words hit his ears. “Dinner! I meant dinner, I didn’t—I mean unless you want to but I—okay forget that I swear I just meant I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“I’d love for you to take me,” she said quickly, and then her eyes widened. “To dinner! Oh my—dinner. Just dinner. For now. I mean, uh—”

Luka couldn’t help it. He started laughing, and so did Marinette, hiding her face in his chest, both of them laughing so hard they couldn’t quite stand up straight and collapsed against each other, swaying slightly. After a moment she peeked up at him, still giggling, and said decisively, “I’d love to have dinner with you.”

Grinning down at her in his arms, Luka’s gaze fell to her lips, remembering that almost kiss, and by the way she pulled that lower lip between her teeth, Marinette did too.

He started to lean toward her but a sudden, hard tug on his hair jerked him backwards, and then he registered something wet and slimy running down the back of his head and along his neck.

Luka screamed at a pitch he normally only hit during concerts, and lurched forward, knocking into Marinette as he flailed over his head. He made contact with something but it just moved away and there was another tug on his hair. He scrambled blindly, trying to get away from whatever it was, not realizing he was practically climbing his small companion.

“Luka, calm down! It’s just the giraffe!” Marinette said, hooking her hands under his thighs and hiking him up to a more stable position. “I’ve got you, you big baby,” she laughed, and he looked down, fully registering the fact that his legs were wrapped around Marinette’s waist and she was holding him up—awkwardly, since he was so much bigger than her, but securely.

If he hadn’t been so embarrassed, he might have been turned on, but as he stared down into Marinette’s amused blue eyes twinkling back up at him, he really would have been just as happy if a hole opened up in the ground for her to drop him into.

Things were going so well, too. Luka twisted around to see behind him, and sure enough there was a giraffe, staring back at him as it chewed placidly. Luka put a hand up to his hair automatically and whined when it came away slimy with giraffe spit. At least it seemed like it was all there. Whatever the giraffe was chewing on, at least it hadn’t taken a chunk of his hair.

That would just be the icing on the cake. He started to put his hand back on Marinette’s shoulder and then realized his hand was slimy now too.

Fuck, he really had no idea how to recover from this.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Luka closed his eyes and dropped his forehead on the top of Marinette’s head. “Hi, Penny.”

“Marinette are you all right?” Penny demanded, and Luka could hear the unmistakable sound of Jagged’s raucous laughter soaring over the hysteria of his other bandmates.

“I’m fine,” Marinette giggled, and looked up at Luka. “Can I put you down now, or do I need to carry you away from the big, scary giraffe first?”

“Just let it eat me,” Luka muttered, and Marinette laughed, dropping Luka’s feet to the ground.

“Not a chance,” Marinette sniffed. “Who’s going to buy me dinner tonight if I let you get eaten by the least scary animal in this zoo?”

“What’s this about dinner?” Jagged asked, perking up, and Luka groaned, slapping his palm over his face. He made a disgusted noise as he realized it was still covered in giraffe spit. He rubbed it off on his shorts and used the tail of his shirt to wipe off his face, sighing.

“You really still want to have dinner after that?” he grumbled mournfully, fully expecting Marinette to back out. When she didn’t answer he peeked out from behind his shirt.

Marinette was staring at his exposed abs. Luka grinned, and dropped his shirt. Marinette’s eyes snapped back up to his face. “I’m gonna find a restroom and clean up,” he told her, chucking her under the chin (with his clean hand) to close her open mouth. “Think about what you want to eat tonight.” He winked and she made a strangled noise.

***

Luka’s foot tapped restlessly as the plane rolled up to the jetbridge (not the gangway, as Jagged had repeatedly corrected him during the first few months on tour). They were a little late, and Luka was tired and hungry and very eager to see his no-longer-so-long-distance girlfriend.

It was torture waiting for the crowd to deplane, and Luka breathed a sigh of relief as he finally made it to the airport corridor and started making his way eagerly toward the baggage claim. He was very much looking forward to being in the same city as Marinette for at least a few months. Their relationship had grown amazingly well, considering they were limited to texting and video calls, except for one week in New York, when Jagged had flown Marinette out for another fashion emergency, and one blissful, heavenly week in London last month when Marinette had taken the train out just to see him, and they had spent the whole week avoiding the overenthusiastic rock star, Luka’s stupid bandmates, and the terrible weather in the very private hotel room Luka had spared no expense for. Even the thought of it made him bite his lip and walk faster.

He was even more motivated because Juleka was supposed to be meeting him here too, and he wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea to leave his sister and his girlfriend alone together for too long in what was bound to be a slightly awkward first meeting.

When he first spotted the girls, he only had eyes for Marinette, and only after he had swept her up in his arms and nearly crushed her, did he have enough attention to notice the giant giraffe balloon his sister was holding. The damn thing was nearly as big as Juleka, and the shit-eating grin his normally reserved sister was wearing was enough to assure him that it wasn’t a coincidence.

Luka groaned and let Marinette slide to the floor. “I can’t believe you told her.”

Marinette giggled and shrugged. “We had to kill the awkward somehow,” she shrugged. “She just got this manic grin and ran off to the nearest gift shop.”

“And it was so worth it for the look on your face,” Juleka snickered.

Luka snorted. Really it was a miracle it had taken this long; he’d had to threaten to quit to keep Jagged from plastering the band’s social media with pictures of Luka hanging off Marinette, a terrified look on his face and his hair sticking straight up and coated in giraffe drool.

Still. “Just for that,” he muttered, and grabbed Marinette’s hand to pull her close, cradling the back of her head in his hand as he kissed her. He meant it to be a simple kiss, just sloppy enough to embarrass his sister, but Marinette put her arms around his neck and pressed up into him, and he forgot Juleka was even there for at least a full minute.

Even the sound of his sister gagging couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when Marinette’s lips finally slipped away from his. “I am so glad to be back,” he growled, and felt Marinette shiver in his arms. “I’m taking you out tomorrow, jet lag or no. You just say when and where.”

“I was thinking maybe we could go to the zoo,” Marinette said innocently, and Juleka cackled as Luka sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

“I like her,” Juleka said, shoving Luka’s arm. “Don’t mess it up. Although,” she began to snicker, “if you could recover from a beginning like that, maybe I shouldn’t worry.”

Luka opened his mouth to tell her where she could shove her opinion, but Marinette grabbed his collar and jerked him down into another kiss. “Be nice,” she murmured, and then shoved him back, giggling along with Juleka at the blissful look on his face.

So just because I constantly live in fear of people calling me on my BS, I’m gonna warn you now I’ve never been to Australia Zoo and while I did some research and studied the map well...try not to laugh at me too hard if you’ve been. It’s just background so I didn’t try that hard to differentiate it from other zoos. But Knit loves giraffes so I needed a zoo and Australia Zoo seemed like the easiest one to get Jagged to, so here we are. Happy Birthday, Knit!

Fiction Master Post | AO3

#quickspins #the zoo fic #i'll never not know you #lukanette #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #meet-cute #i am lukanette trash i admit it #happy birthday knit!#giraffe merchandise haunts luka for the rest of his life #giraffe stuffies pop up everywhere #the nursery is totally decorated in giraffes #he can't get away from it #he just accepts it

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blissfulalchemist · 3 years

Note

“ loving you saved me. ” + catjohn xx

Have something that would take place after A Chance for Faith

Courthouses don’t look as grand as they do on tv. Then again Cat wasn’t in a courthouse in New York, she was at one in Montana. Helena to be more exact, can’t have a crime as big as this in just any old court, last time she was here they’d flown over it. She shouldn’t have been here, no one else wanted her too, not even herself, it was recommended by her therapist. It was to help in being able to confront the realities of what happened, disrupt the delusion of her time in Eden’s Gate, and help her heal. She had refused, both out of fear and just wanting to be done with the whole ordeal, but then they dangled the possibility of being able to have Liz back sooner if she did it.

The only reason Cat had done anything once it became clear that John was never going to speak to her again. Liz needed her, needed her mom to be as normal as possible so that she could lead some semblance of a normal life. The only reason that Cat enters into the quiet room reserved for people that are testifying in the trial. It wasn’t empty at least, there was a young man also waiting, his features familiar to Cat as she sat studying him.

Most of his face was obscured from the curls of his brown hair, clean shaven with a light blue button up and black tie, Doesn’t dress up often does he?. It took a minute before he looked up at her with his green eyes, the recognition clicking. He had more of a beard going on last time she saw him, the circles under his eyes darker, and face covered in various cuts and bruises. He looked as uncomfortable back then to those news cameras as he did now, hands tapping along to some unheard beat. He gave a half hearted attempt at a smirk, “Haven’t seen you at any of the other trials.”

She blinked a few times, “I didn’t need to be. They plead guilty.”

“The grand jury ones,” he corrected, “The ones to determine if there was enough to go to trial.”

“I was….incapacitated,” Cat crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair.

“They lock you up too?” Her heart picked up speed, did he know what she did? No one knew, no one that wasn’t there knew right? Her bodies were blamed on someone else. “Probably should follow your lead, get myself checked into some mental hospital.”

Her shoulders fell, “Oh,” Cat pushed some of her hair back into place, “It’s not all what you would think it to be. You’re better off with out-patient therapy, no groups though, even if it is with the residents of Hope County. Won’t be of much help to you.” He sat back, holding his chin, giving a small shrug, “I’d recommend going with someone that specializes with war related PTSD.”

He shook his head quickly, “I’m not going to a veterans’ center.”

“There’s plenty of other places, Deputy,” he rolled his eyes, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. “Can I ask you something?”

“Might not answer, but sure.”

“How did she die? Faith I mean.”

He searched the tiles above him, sighing, “I shot and killed the concept of her,” the deputy’s eyes met hers once more, “If you get what I’m saying.”

She’s still alive, Cat let out a breath, relieved, “Yeah. I do.”

The door opened, a security officer holding it for the man following behind him. Even with the chains around his ankles there was no mistaking the cadence of his footsteps to Catlina, the black suit and slicked black hair the final indications on who had joined the two. The security officer sat John down at a table with a separate set of cuffs attaching the ex-herald to it. The deputy’s eyes narrowed, jaw tightening and arms crossed as he got up to move closer to Catlina, John’s eyes widening as he followed the movement. Cat couldn’t tell if her heart raced out of affection or rage, her hands wanting to reach out to John despite the stiffness in her body. What more can she do other than keep herself rooted there in that chair. No one thought to prepare her for seeing John in person again, it didn’t seem like a possibility.

John righted himself in the chair, the officer checking the chains and cuffs secure before looking up to the young deputy. “They’ll be coming back for you in about five minutes or so Mr. Ruicknar,” the officer told him, “I trust you can handle him if he gets too unruly.” The officer didn’t elaborate any further, shutting the door behind his exit.

The three of them stayed still, words drying up, Cat twisting the tips of her fingers trying to keep her gaze averted from John’s. She could just feel his eyes on her the entirety of that silence. The words she wanted to yell at him brimming in the back of her throat, the ache in her chest sparking the tears she couldn’t let fall, not if she wanted to present some kind of confidence around Joseph. She didn’t owe John anything, he was the one that sent her away, the one that never even cared when she told him about their daughter, nothing but radio silence.

Watered down voices come into focus with the shaking of her hands, “Not everything that happens has an ulterior motive, Deputy.”

“Seems to be with you, Fashion Week,” Cat blinked a few times, shaking her head clear, hands rifling through her purse, “At least you’re tied down, can’t get any closer.”

The rattling of the bottle in her shaking hands, eyes searching for some kind of drinkable liquid, “The table to your left,” John said, his attention quickly back on the younger man, teeth gritted, “I’d never hurt her.”

The deputy leaned forward, as Cat made her way to the table grabbing one of the small water bottles, “Could have fooled me.” The door opened once more, two pills landing in Catlina’s palm, Ruicknar being called as she drank them, her back stiff. The deputy gently put a hand on Cat’s shoulder, “Just keep as far back as you can from him. I’ll warn the guy outside to pay closer attention just in case,” he whispered, eyes glancing back at John before he made his way out the door, leaving her alone with her biggest disillusionment.

She steadied herself on the table, breathing deeply pushing the nausea away, she was going to be here for a while. She couldn’t leave the room and its size dwindled with every passing minute. Why did he have to be here in the room with her? Why now? This had to have been done on purpose, there was no other explanation. “I’ve never seen you so covered up,” John finally said, Cat taking in the black halter neck dress and navy cardigan once more. She didn’t own anything that would cover up all the scars without her dying in the warmer weather and the scrubs she wore weren’t really court appropriate. “It looks nice on you,” she didn’t justify him with a response to his compliment, John letting out a sigh, “I’d rather not sit in silence for the next hour or so Catlina.”

Her nails dug into the table, “You made it pretty clear you wanted nothing but silence between us.” She turned glaring, hands balled into fists, “So don’t try to start any of that with me.”

His face stayed neutral, eyes following her as she returned to her seat, facing as much of her back to him as possible, “I regret it you know.”

“Sure you do.”

“I do. I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I just left with you,” Cat bit her tongue, hugging herself tighter hearing the softness in his voice, “I couldn’t bring myself to speak to you after that, thought it would be easier for the both of us.”

“It wasn’t,” she spat out.

“Mr. Powell tried to give me one voice message in particular,” Going to need to be a little more specific, I left many, “He kept trying to tell me how important it was since he had listened to it already.” So Lance knows, “He never did tell me what was on it, even after I asked. He told me that I should have listened to it when I had the chance.”

“It wasn’t that important,” she whispered, “Most likely just another one of my pleas to hear from you.” The voice of her therapist repeated to her how little she owed to John and how it was going to be better for Liz that he never know of her. The latter having only been confirmation that he knew nothing of her existence.

“Catlina please,” his blue eyes searched hers, face unwilling to give up any indication of his true thoughts.

“No,” she shook her head, “No, John. You don’t get to do that to me. You don’t get to ask me to give you an answer you didn’t want when it was first presented to you.”

“I didn’t understand what I was really running from back then.”

“And what? Now you do?”

“Yes.” His jaw clenched, looking down to his hands, his breathing deepening, “I didn’t want to acknowledge the pain, the regret that I still feel for throwing away the possibility of a future with you.”

She turned sharply, legs moving her closer to the table, “You should feel that way John. You should feel guilt along with everything else because you didn’t even fight for it. You gave up.”

“I know,” he growled, “I know how much you ‘fought’ for a future, a bright one, the one we talked about having one day. I know.”

Her hands slammed on the table, John flinching, sitting straighter in the chair, “You don’t know! You don’t know what I did to make that possible for us. How hard I worked to be so close to finishing what needed to be done, before you sent me away!” Cat leaned closer, a breath away from him, “You don’t know what I sacrificed for you, John. You can’t possibly know.”

He stood quickly, the chair scraping against the linoleum, eyes narrowing, “I do though. I know exactly what you did, Mary.” The smile that was always paired with the tone, the one that used to unnerve her with its poison, wasn’t present. The face she saw now, even with the darkened eyes and flaring nostrils, wore signs of disappointment….of a sadness that she hadn’t seen before, or one she could recall in their time together. “I figured out what you were doing pretty quickly and yet I still couldn’t let myself believe what was so clearly the truth. You talked about me having a mask on, there being two people, when in the end you also wore a mask. You became two different people, neither of which were the real you.” He glanced down, his hands relaxing, resisting the urge to place them over hers, ”So I had to send you away. I had to preserve that last bit of you that I could still identify as the Catlina who told me that she’d rather die than get to a point of treating people as less than human.”

She pulled away, swallowing back the emotions churning in her, threatening to over take her. The part of her that would forgive him, want to forget everything that happened, and offer to start anew, to let him know that their impossible future was no longer impossible but already here. “I was wrong back then John. I was just as you and your brothers said I was,” she crosses her arms, nails digging into her skin through the fabric, “Naive. So you were better off just killing me if you wanted that preservation so badly.”

“That was never an option for me!” His breathing had slowed, shoulders slumping down, “I’m willing and able to hurt and kill whomever I please without so much as a second thought. Lord knows how many times I did, uncaring of the consequences from my brother or from anyone really, but you….,” he scoffed, giving a slight shake of his head, “You know I thought of every single possible reason you could have given me to just kill you, keep myself prepared for the moment that you would screw up. The moment that my brother tired of your role much like he did the other Faiths, knowing it could very well fall upon me to do it.”

Her knuckles turn to white, trying to hide the shaking she can feel starting to crawl up her spine. The information he’s just provided should be of no surprise to her, she had once considered any potential reason she’d have to take his life, hearing the words come from his lips makes what she had always assumed real. The sharp reminder of the man she had to fight through to get to the one before her now, “So what changed?”

“You screwed up,” he glanced at the fallen seat behind him, Cat’s movements on autopilot bringing it close enough for John to do the rest. “You screwed up in a way that was going to drag me down with you. I couldn’t have that, I couldn’t risk everything that I helped build….so I left you in that bunker, going over how I could kill you in a way that just made it look like you couldn’t handle the process, but I couldn’t come up with anything.” She rolled her eyes, biting her lower lip, John’s eyes cast down, “I couldn’t think of anything because it didn’t feel right. I thought it was because I just didn’t have all the answers, making that black and white thinking you had mentioned harder to determine if you were with me or against me. After that session I had the answers I needed to put some things together, enough to figure out that you were against the situation and my role within it-.”

“But I wasn’t against you,” she finished in a whisper, “Not against the man you were taking the first steps to becoming.”

“Exactly, but I found myself debating my loyalties. Something I hadn’t really done, not to the extent of abandoning it all, an option that came to me briefly. I know I still chose my family over you,” he sighed, his hands clasped together, “but I knew I had to save you like you would do for me. It was the most right thing I had ever done, the one thing I did with no ulterior motive in a long time, Catlina.” She met his eyes, the vibrating of her body quieting, “I still wasn’t a perfect man, I never will be, but I wanted, want, to be a better man and that started with giving you up for a second time.”

“You never even asked me, John. You should have talked to me about it.”

“Like I said I wasn’t perfect, I did terrible things but it was to do good, to bring some of your vision of safety and happiness back where it belonged.”

Cat brought herself back to the chair, sitting with her ankles crossed and hands in her lap, “And did you?”

John took a deep breath, “I don’t think so, not me, but Chance did.” His lips quirked into a quick smile, glancing back at the door, “He brought it back for them all.”

Cat glanced around the room, heart pounding, stomach shaking with the scraping of the chair as she moved it closer to John. He leaned away, back stiffening as she settled herself at the table. “You want to know something, John,” his eyes looked between her face and hands that were slowly starting to reach out for him, “he wouldn’t have been there to begin with if not for you.” Her fingers slid under his, lightly grasping them, her thumb running over the small tattoos, the never ending ache in her chest receding the longer she held him. “You sending me away, as angry as I am about it still, did something good and you should hold onto that, John.”

His hands clasped around hers, taking a deep breath, voice soft, “I hurt you, I know that, and I won’t deny that there is a part of me hoping that maybe we can reconcile, start over just you and me….,” Have the life we talked about with Liz, “but if that never happens and this is the last time we ever see each other then I need you to know something. Catlina, loving you saved me.” Her eyes widened, unfocused on his hand reaching to push a stray lock from her face, she flinched her hands returning to her lap, Don’t say that. Never say something like that, “In more ways than you can imagine, my Catlina. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.”

That call, that siren call of his, the one that will drown her once more, keep her locked away. She pulled her hands away, shaking her head, “I did nothing of the sort, John.” We can never have a relationship, never again, “You’re right that we’ll never reconcile,” No matter how much I want too….God how I want to have you again, “This has to be the last time we see each other John. I-I can’t do this,” Not without losing her. “I’m-I’m sorry, John. I’ll always love you, I just-. We can’t-,” she stood quickly making her way to the door, “I’m sorry.”

She rested with her back against the door, wiping away at the tears falling, trying to control her breathing to suppress the sobs. The guard at the door gently reaches a hand out to her shoulder, “Are you okay ma’am?” She mumbles her uncertainty, the man’s face turning more sympathetic, “Let’s get you some air and then to a different witness room.” Cat nods, watching as he grabs another officer to watch the door before leading her to a small patio, “He start to get into your head too?”

The wind brings back the ache in her chest, drying the last of her tears, the openness does nothing to stop the feeling of being locked away like she had hoped it would. Theo was right, they were all right: She’d never be free of John. She’d never be free, she’d have to always be running. The guard looks down at her, still waiting for a response, “Something like that.”

#salvations two paths #x: tribulation #Thank you stella!#i swear there will be a horrible day when a joe cat piece gets on main first before these two #one day i will put these two on main but sadly that is not what they dictated for this prompt like I originally wanted

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2manyfandoms2count · 3 years

Text

You can count on me (I will be there for you)

Hi, I’m Elle, and I have absolutely no idea how you can hack into a computer beyond the usual *typing sounds* “I’m in” you see in movies. I have therefore decided to leave Max and Markov do their thing backstage while I focus on a little mother-son moment (which there’ll be more of later, of course). Enjoy! xx

Also, small warning: there’s swearing on the last line. I think it’s justified.

---

Chapter 7

Ladybug shivers as they step out of the Voyage portal. Chat Noir pinpointed a blind spot area in a corner of the Mansion’s lobby from which they could hack into the house’s elaborate security system, and Max managed to get all three of them in exactly the right place. Apparently Gabriel Agreste didn't think much could happen beside the grand staircase; remembering the time she'd had to transform there, the spotted lady thinks it's just as well.

While her travel companions huddle around Max’s computer to deactivate the cameras, she takes a look around the space, making sure to stay within the boundaries Chat Noir indicated. How Adrien managed to grow up into the warm and vibrant person he is, while living in this austere place will always be beyond her. Whoever thought that displaying a giant mourning painting in an already colourless room was a good idea clearly doesn’t live here. She supposes it could be alright, were the place a museum, but as a house? It doesn’t help the large volumes feel homey in the least.

“Alright, cameras are looped, we can move around now.” Pegasus closes his computer and stands a little taller. “So, what exactly are we looking for, and how should we go about it?”

“Physically, purple butterfly-themed stationary, and anything that could compromise Ladybug or suggest a tie with Hawkmoth,” Chat Noir lists. “Even though I think we have a better chance of finding the latter two on a protected file. It’s not like my- Mr Agreste to leave things lying around in the open.”

Ladybug nods along. “Where do you think we’re most likely to find those?”

“My best guess would be Gabriel’s atelier, and Nathalie’s room. She’s been keeping quite a lot of paperwork there, since her illness a couple of years ago.” Her partner shrugs. “And I think anything numerical would definitely be on Gabriel’s computer.”

“If that's okay, I think I'll try to access the data from Adrien’s computer, if he still has it in his room? I seem to recall seeing some links last time we connected to it, and there’ll probably be less security to bypass.” Max suggests.

“And less risk of leaving fingerprints, or anything that could make Gabriel suspect anything was touched during his absence.” Chat Noir muses. “Good call, Max. How about you go to Adrien’s room with Markov, LB, you go to Nathalie’s room, and I check the study?”

“Sounds good to me.” Ladybug smiles.

“Perfect.” Pegasus nods. “Should I detransform?”

“Maybe that would be wise. Let’s give Kaalki some time to recharge so we’re good to go later on.” She nods, and hands him a box of macarons she managed to ‘steal’ before they left. It’s not the Kwami’s favourite food, but it will have to do.

Chat Noir watches the both of them run up the stairs and separate at the top, smiling as Ladybug’s newest costume addition flutters with her movements. Tikki must have really liked the veil for it to stick through the transformation. It looks good, and it’s a good reminder that they don’t have all the time in the world.

He takes a deep breath and opens the double doors that lead to his father’s study.

The room hasn’t changed over the years. Some designers, Marinette included, like to sprawl their ideas out in giant mood boards, pictures, sketches and fabric swatches gradually invading the walls as their collection takes shape. Gabriel Agreste isn’t one of these people. The decoration is as stark as ever, despite an upcoming fashion show, pictures of Adrien pulled up from different ads, and marble statues seemingly being the only personal touches. The only real spark of colour is his mother’s golden portrait, at the far end of the room. He often wondered why it hung there, and not on the mantelpiece, or anywhere else in the room where his father could see it while working. He can’t see her not being a source of inspiration.

He walks up to the painting and swivels it to reveal the family safe. It seems like a good place to start.

“Plagg, claws in.” He whispers.

The dark figure swirls out of his ring and spins around a little, taking in his surroundings.

“Gotta say, kiddo, I’m glad that we’re moving out soon. This place always gave me the creeps.” Plagg floats up to the pictures lining the walls. Adrien can’t tell if there’s a hint of nostalgia in his eyes as he takes in the shots of him that were taken around the time they met.

“I thought the Spirit of Destruction knew no fear?” His lips curl into an amused smile.

“I didn’t say I was afraid, just that I didn’t like this place.” Plagg refrains himself very hard from knocking over, or straight up Cataclysming, Adrien can't tell, a frame showing a very proud Gabriel, probably at the end of one of his first fashion shows. “Anyway, what are you doing, detransforming in the middle of you top secret mission? What if your lover walks in?” He asks mischievously.

“She’s my wife now, actually.” Adrien grins, still giddy at the thought.

“I know, just wanted to give you the satisfaction of saying it out loud.” He grins back. “Consider it your wedding present from me; you get to be sappy for the day. Not too much, though, or I’ll end up retching on your father’s stuff.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it won’t come to that. I just need you to open the safe, like you did that one time? Then I’ll retransform, on the off-chance Marinette does decide to come and check on things.”

“No problem.” Plagg zoomed through the heavy metal door, and was back out again a couple of minutes later. “Whew- I don't know if it’s because I’m getting old, but it felt a lot easier the first time around. Got a little Camembert for my troubles?” He pouted.

“That’s weird.” Adrien frowns as he pulls out the cheese box from his suit pocket and tosses him a piece.

“Eh, I wouldn’t sweat it. It was, what? Ten years ago? More? I lose count.” The Kwami catches the cheese and gobbles it down. “Anyway, technologies have evolved since then, and you know your progenitor likes to keep up.”

“True.” Adrien replies pensively as they take a look at the contents of the safe.

The contents looks pretty much identical to the last time they’d broken into it. The same books are stored on the lower shelves, with a couple wads of cash. At eye level, the book about Tibet still sits next to his mother’s picture. The Miraculous Grimoire that had gotten him into so much trouble is gone, he notices, but he doesn't worry too much about it. It could just mean that his father is using it for his next collection.

There’s something else missing, though. He seems to recall that there was a flash of colour around his mother, but maybe he’s remembering it wrong.

He shakes his head to clear the feeling that it's something important as he closes the safe, and calls his transformation phrase.

Swivelling the panel back to its original place, he sighs as he takes in Emilie’s portrait once more.

“Oh, Maman, I wish you were still here.” He says softly. It breaks his heart, but the more time passes, the less he can remember her face. Sure, the paintings and pictures remind him of what she looked like, but picturing her spontaneously in his memories is becoming a struggle.

It’s actually this painting he generally sees when he thinks about her. It’s vibrant, warm, solar, just like she was. He wishes she could have met Marinette. She would have adored her, he knows. She would’ve treated her like the daughter she never had.

“If only you could’ve seen us today. I’m sure you would’ve been a much easier guest than Father’s turning out to be.” He lets out a nervous chuckle, and gently touches the painting’s surface. It’s something his father always forbade him from doing, but he isn’t there, it’s his wedding day, and one of the most important people in his life isn't there to celebrate with him.

As he slides his fingers over the elaborate dress, wondering if she ever wore one like this, and if so, if his father kept it, he notices that there are some spots which are smooth, almost cool, in the midst of the paint asperities. He frowns, and touches them again; they’re definitely metal, glinting a little in the afternoon light.

Tentatively, he pushes down on one of them. The button sinks below the surface, but nothing happens.

He tries pressing on two groups, located approximately at eye level. This time, there’s a slight whirring sound, and he feels the ground move under his feet.

He’s too stunned to jump out when he starts to descend below ground level, his hands automatically slamming to the sides of the tube, eyes widening in panic.

“Chat Noir!” Ladybug and Max burst through the doors just before he is completely engulfed by darkness. She’s pale as she watches him disappear, clutching purple envelopes and something else in her hands. Max doesn’t look too good either.

“Shit” is the last thing he hears as he travels to whatever dark corner of the Mansion the tube is taking him to. He's not sure who said it, but something tells him they all did.

#angst is coming #but also the happy ending #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #mlb #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #ladynoir #adrienette #adrinette #fake wedding #one-sided reveal #aged-up characters #max kante #inspired by fanart #elle writes #yccom

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cagestark · 4 years

Text

-Defender//6-

just a lil chapter. Next is the last.

Read here on AO3.

Tony’s hand isn’t as burned as he feared. Once the initial redness wears off, the skin is just tinted pink and a little raw. Still Rhodey supervises down in Tony’s lab while the younger man applies burn cream to the tender skin. On top of all the callouses and scars that his hands already bear, he’s surprised he even feels it at all.

“I’ve never heard you so quiet before,” Rhodey says from where’s he’s seated on a stool on the other side of the lab table, the surface strewn with first aid supplies. The man’s dark eyes track his every move, mouth in its characteristic frown. “I’ve never actually heard you be quiet at all. This must be serious.”

“It’s not, really,” Tony says. But as he says it, he loses his confidence. What happened upstairs seems pretty serious: seriously concerning, seriously unexpected. In a deep, vulnerable place, Tony was seriously grateful. “Peter is protective. I recruited him a few weeks ago when I found him scaling the side of the building.”

Rhodey’s eyebrows climb up his sloped forehead. “Mutant?”

“Enhanced,” says Tony, slowly refilling the first aid supply kit. “Bitten by a radioactive spider, believe it or not. He’s got super strength, agility, and scopulae that help him stick to nearly any surface like Velcro.”

“Goddamn.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“So why are you the surface he’s stuck himself to?” Rhodey asks.

Tony lets the question linger, pondering it. This is Rhodey, who has seen him in all manners of debauchery, who has seen every high and low of Tony’s up-close-and-personal for the last thirty years—but that doesn’t mean it gets any easier to see the disappointment in his face. It doesn’t mean that Tony doesn’t fear losing one of the last people who cares about him, who tolerates him at all.

At last Tony says, “I think he’s kind of in love with me.”

“Kid’s got a crush?”

“Yeah,” Tony admits. “And—he’s not the only one.”

Rhodey sighs, reaching up to rub at his forehead. “Jesus, Tones. How old is he?”

“Legal. Not that it makes it any better with more than twenty years between us. Steve doesn’t approve. He thinks I’m grooming the kid.”

“These people don’t know you at all,” Rhodey says. “Tony. Tony, look at me. That’s not the kind of guy you are.”

“He’s the most righteous man alive,” Tony says. His hands shake, weakness, like leftover DT’s from the day she stopped drinking an inordinate amount of alcohol and only indulged on occasion. Weakness. All he’s made from are a dozen different weaknesses stitched together into the shape of a man. “You know me. Obviously I’m not one for self-reflection. But when the man who used to kill Nazis for a living always thinks the worst of me, maybe it’s because there is worse in me.

“Peter treats me like the sun shines out of my ass, all because I treat him like a fucking human being, but he barely knows me. If there’s one thing history has taught me, it’s that there’s Captain America’s side, and then there’s the wrong side. I always end up on the other side. Always. If Peter isn’t careful, he’s going to end up there with me, and that’s not what I want for him. He’s good, I think. In his core.”

“So are you,” Rhodey says. “None of the Avengers know you, and you don’t even know yourself. If you did, you wouldn’t let yourself be treated like this. At least this kid seems to have some sense, even if he’s subtle as a brick wielding it. I feel a lot better about spending so much time in DC knowing that someone is here and in your corner.”

Peter rests his forehead against one of the glass floor-length window panes in his room, mouth full of sticky-sweet cherry flavored pastry. He can barely taste it. Up this high, Manhattan looks fake beneath him, a toy city that he should take care not to step on, like the lego structures he used to leave out around May’s apartment when he was a boy.

May. The pain of losing her never gets easier. There is no coping, there is just forgetting. Times when his mind is so full up with other things that there is no room for even her, when he’s working on a machine, when he’s training with Natasha in the gym. Then in moments like this, her memory comes rushing back in, and it’s like the grieving process starts over. She dies again to him, every day.

Are you ashamed of me? Peter wonders, looking into the cloudless sky. There is no answer.

May had never liked violence, but she was fierce in her own way. She believed in justice, she believed in compassion. Would she think he overreacted in the kitchen when he’d threatened to tear off another enhanced’s limb? Or would she think him justified, if she knew of the things Steve and the rest of the team had done to Tony? Just thinking about it makes his blood boil. People who had hurt Tony physically and emotionally, people who had no respect for him, people who still took advantage of every bit of his goodwill. Unremorseful people.

Glancing down, Peter sees that he’s crushed his other poptart to crumbs. Kneeling down to sweep them into the palm of his hand, his spine goes stiff, just a brief moment of warning—someone at the door, not Steve, not Tony, someone—before there is a firm knock. Abandoning the crumbs, Peter opens the door a crack, afraid of who might be on the other side.

A dark, serious complexion greets him.

“Hi,” Rhodey says. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Peter says, opening the door wide to let him past. He catches a brief glimpse of the other Avengers standing huddled together, eyeing Peter’s room with wariness before he shuts the door on the image.

It must look strange, a young man whose room is so empty. No photographs on the wall, no pile of clothes on the floor, no posters or game consoles. The bed is made (unslept in most nights, though Rhodey would have no way of knowing that sometimes Peter feels more comfortable in enclosed spaces, that he curls up inside the closet empty except for clothes hangers or that he crawls underneath the bed to sleep). Combined with his display in the kitchen, he can’t imagine what the older, distinguished man must think of him.

“Is Tony’s hand okay?” Peter asks. He can still hear the pained hiss the man made when the steaming coffee spilt onto his bare flesh. It makes that feeling come up in Peter all over again, that feeling like he has swallowed fire, fury like acid that eats at his stomach, fury that he wants to spit out at someone. At Steve Rogers. “I should have stayed to make sure.”

“It might blister,” Rhodey says. “But he gets worse down there in his lab on the daily. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Why are you here then?”

“Tony is important to me. The most important person in my life except for my own mother. I’ve been watching his back since he was a teenager, and short of dying, nothing’s ever going to change that. That’s either going to make us friends or enemies, Parker. Your choice.”

On the lengthy list of threats Peter’s received in his life, this is easily the most charming. Rhodey isn’t even enhanced. Peter could kill him without breaking a sweat, could tear his head from his body, could pull off his arms and legs the way other kids do to spiders, to smaller, weaker creatures. But there’s still something formidable about the other man. At the very least, there is something respectable.

“Anyone in Tony’s corner is someone I want to be friends with,” Peter admits.

Rhodey’s expression softens. He holds out a hand that Peter meets with his own. “Then you’re alright by me, kid. You could use a lesson in picking your battles, though. It doesn’t take enhanced powers of deduction to see that Rogers wants you off the team.”

“I’ll fight any battle that protects Tony.”

“And when you’re on the bench because Rogers has convinced the Powers that Be that you’re too unpredictable to be in the field? Who’s going to be protecting Tony then? Too many injuries have happened on missions because not a single one of them can be counted on to have Tony’s back. You could change that, if you’d get a grip on your temper,” Rhodey says. Peter’s shoulders sag—he hadn’t even thought of that.

“Sometimes I can’t help it,” Peter admits. “It feels like there’s this monster inside of me. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde or something. When they say something bad about Tony or when they hurt him, some flip inside me gets switched. How do I stop?”

“You’ve got to choose what’s more important to you,” Rhodey says. “Protecting Tony or avenging him.”

For a long time after Rhodey leaves, Peter stands at the wall of windows, staring out unseeing at the city below while he cycles through everything that Colonel Rhodes said, wondering again and again, Why can’t Peter do both?

“This is like, a foreign language to me,” Peter mutters, flipping through the textbook that Tony had retrieved for him. The cover reads FUNDAMENTALS OF ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING. The glossy margins are filled with Tony’s tiny scrawl, and Peter runs his fingers reverently over the writing trying to imagine a fifteen year old boy scribbling on each page. He’s seen pictures, newspapers archived on the New York City Public Library computers of a young, handsome boy crouched beside a robot he built, smiling into the camera. Fifteen years old, and this had been nothing to Tony. Peter is twenty and it takes him ages to get through a single paragraph, googling foreign terms on his phone and struggling to understand the abstract concepts.

Tony glances up from his StarkPad. He balks at the expression on Peter’s face and turns the tablet off, sitting it aside. “Come over. We can go through it together.”

“You’d explain it to me?” Peter asks, raking his eyes over the older man’s face. Fuck, Tony is so handsome. That look he’s giving Peter, too, the unbearably tender kind, the fond kind, it makes him all the more beautiful. He’s not above asking Tony for help. His pride was one of the first things he had to let go of when he began to live and sleep rough. “I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re far from an idiot,” Tony says. He pats the seat next to him and they sit shoulder to shoulder, close enough that Peter can soak up the man’s warmth, struggling not to sway ever closer. Tony has his own gravity, and Peter often feels helpless to it. “You’re self-taught. It’s no wonder that a lot of this technical jargon isn’t connecting.”

They make it through the first chapter together, and Tony was right—much of it Peter was familiar with, though it hadn’t been presented in terms he knew. Tony is an excellent teacher, too. Patient and insightful, witty. He soothes Peter’s fears that he isn’t smart enough, builds confidence in him that maybe he could learn to be an engineer the way he’d always dreamed.

“We should send you to school,” Tony says afterwards, handing Peter a chilled Coke from the refrigerator. “An Avengers Scholarship, maybe. Full ride, all the amenities, only the best schools and tutors.”

“You mean you won’t be my private tutor, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, letting his eyes get wide and sweet. Most older men find the guileless thing sexy, but Tony just laughs at him.

“I wouldn’t want to put your education in jeopardy. People will hardly be able to say I’m an unbiased educator,” Tony says. The warm, dark eyes drop to Peter’s mouth for just a moment before looking away, drinking deeply from his own Coke. “Though I’m sure we could come up with some incentive program for good grades.”

“Incentive program, oh,” Peter laughs. “I like the—”

An alarm begins to sound, loud enough that Peter feels it in his teeth and deeper. It’s louder, harsher than the sound of Tony’s doorbell. The reaction it evokes in the older man is visceral as well, eyes going wide, jaw going tight as he taps at his glasses. The sound cuts out of the penthouse, but Peter can hear it continuing on in the floors below.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asks. “Are we under attack?”

“Someone is. That’s the alarm for the Avengers to assemble.”

The people under attack are on the west coast. Some ‘half-rate magician’ (Dr. Stephen Strange’s words, not Peter’s) had accidentally conjured inter-dimensional creatures that they couldn’t control nor send packing. The Avengers are being sent to round them up and with the assistance of Dr. Strange, send them back to where they’ve come from.

For the first time, Peter meets Director Nick Fury, a black man with one eye and a direct way of speaking that Peter can appreciate. Around the table are seated seven other Avengers: Natasha, Steve, Clint, Sam, Wanda, Vision, and Tony himself. After Fury ends his briefing on the situation, Steve stands and begins to formulate the briefest bones of a game plan and—

Peter isn’t in it.

“Sorry, kid,” Steve says. “You’re not yet cleared for field work. Maybe next time.”

“I’ve been working with Natasha for weeks,” Peter says. Colonel Rhodes words play on a loop in Peter’s brain, and they’re his lifeboat in the sea of anxiety that threatens to drown him. Peter needs to stay calm and play it cool. It’s the only way he’ll be allowed to have Tony’s back, and he must have Tony’s back. “This seems like the perfect mission for me to get my feet wet.”

Tony sits beside Peter, silent and stiff. Director Fury watches all of them with a cool, knowing gaze when he says, “He’s got a point, Captain.”

“We’ve got protocols for a reason,” Steve says. “Putting you in the field before you’re ready is an easy way to get hurt, Pete. Sorry, but the answer is no.”

All eyes turn to Fury, who nods to Steve magnanimously. “Don’t look at me,” he tells them. “That’s your team leader. It’s his call.”

Peter listens to the rest of the plans with his hands clenched in his lap, knuckles turning white. He cycles through every stage of grief, and as soon as the team breaks to head to the room where the helicarrier will take them to California, Peter catches one of Tony’s wrists to keep him from filing out of the room, just another soldier under Captain Rogers’s command.

“Please don’t go,” Peter mutters. Director Fury watches them unabashedly, his arms crossed. Tony lifts a hand to ruffle Peter’s hair, but the expression on his face is downright grim.

“Don’t worry about me, kid,” Tony says softly. “I’ve been doing this gig for years now, and I haven’t died yet.”

That doesn’t comfort Peter at all. When Tony leaves, he takes all the warmth with him until Peter feels chilled to the bone.

“Parker. Nice to officially meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Director Fury says. He doesn’t offer his hand to shake, and neither does Peter.

“From who?” Peter wonders out loud. “Captain Rogers?”

Fury hums noncommittally. “Don’t worry about Stark. He is an asset to the Avengers, and I will do all I can to ensure his safety.”

“With all due respect Director Fury—he is not just an asset,” Peter says. Too afraid of what else might come from his mouth, come straight up from that dark place inside of him fueled by fear and anger and hurt, Peter lets his feet guide him back to the elevator. Without asking, FRIDAY takes him up to Tony’s penthouse. When Tony gets back, Peter plans to move back in (so long as the older man wants him to). He tells himself that again and again. When Tony gets back. When.

Peter sits and he waits.

#starker #not steve rogers friendly #defender #cagewrites

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mcrvellouslystcrk · 4 years

Text

Recognition

Pairing: Paul McCartney x Reader

Words: 1732

Warning: Just some swear words

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be pure fluffy fluff but it turned out somehow different. It’s still pretty fluffy oh well. Enjoy while I work on request!

It was very early in the morning and the sun was not quite up yet, but you were feeling great. Being the only girl in a guy music group could be tricky, especially considering the conservative aspect of the mid 60s society, but you managed to pull it off like the boss you were. About a week ago, the band had been invited to a television set to promote your new album, and you totally showed off your guitar skills in a delicate solo. Everyone seemed to be in awe, and the interviewer, as well as the rest of the sceptics, stopped wondering what you were doing in the Beatles.

Anyway, you were feeling much less tense than the other days when you began driving to the studio that morning, Paul by your side. You were living close to his Cavendish Avenue house in St John’s Wood, and you were going to the studio together most of the times. You put your feet up next to the wheel and leaned on the passenger seat, observing the quiet neighbourhood slowly waking up.

Paul sneaked a glance at you and caught your dreamy smile against the half opened window. It immediately soothed him, and he felt quite amazed at how much he could be affected by you. He never attempted a move, though, sensing you certainly just saw him as a very good friend, even some kind of brother, and nothing more. It hurt him, but it was way easier to control his feelings as you were not seeing anybody and generally did not talk about possible love interests.

You turned to face him, eyes still sort of sleepy, and stretched a hand to shuffle his soft hair. He sent you an amused look and tried to tidy it up again, eyes on the road. That is what you loved the most about Paul; he accepted your little outburst of affection and other quirks without feeling the need to say something. You both could spend hours not talking, just enjoying each other’s company while strumming some tunes on your instruments or sipping tea in front of the television.

You mirrored his expression and took a box of homemade cookies out of your tote bag. He tried to take one but you gently slapped his hand away.

“They’re for George!”

His pouty lips formed an offended ‘o’.

“Firstly, that’s unfair, and second, why are you eating them?”

“Because I made them! I’m entitled to. And I’m sorta hungry.”

Paul sent you a pleading look, making you chuckle. Sighing, you put a cookie in his hand as you were arriving to the studio. You could not resist that boy anything.

“Thanks, love.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Getting out of the car, you pulled your guitar out of the backseat and moved towards the entrance of the studio before getting stopped by a young man in his twenties, closely followed by a pair of giggling teenage girls.

“Hello,” he started with a hesitant smile.

You upped an eyebrow. He was different from the other fans you had to face; he seemed ready to back off if he saw you were not in the mood. And he was also quite pretty for a man. A bit like Paul…man, I do have a type.

“Hi. Can I do something for you?”

“Yes, I’m awfully sorry for the inconvenience, but my sisters over there are too shy to ask for an autograph so here I am…”

“Oh, sure, sure.”

Placing the guitar case down for a moment, you took the pen he was handing you and signed the album covers next to your face. Paul had been following the exchange from behind the car, and decided to move around it to join you after seeing the smile you gave the man. The two girls murmured something in their brother’s ear, and he turned to Paul.

“Excuse me, could you also sign?” he wondered with a smile.

Paul took the albums coldly and started signing mechanically as the girls were watching him in awe. He sent them a wink but stayed focused on the small talk you were having with the guy.

“So I caught you on that show the other day… You were exceptional.”

“Really, you thought so?” you asked, picking up the guitar again, smiling consistently.

“Yes! It was amazing.”

“Yeah, well, she is, but now we’ve got to go, we have a lot of work today,” Paul intervened, catching your elbow.

He nodded at the man and his sisters, starting pulling you away. You frowned but smiled at them once more and shook the man’s hand before entering the building.

“Paul! What the hell?”

He shrugged, eyes in front of him as you both made your way to the recording room.

“He was flirting with you, and I’m pretty sure he couldn’t care less about your talent. He kept ogling your dress! Which is way too short for a work day, by the way!”

You scoffed, rather hurt.

“You didn’t seem to mind it during the drive,” you exclaimed, pissed off. “I saw you checking out my legs!”

“Well, I’m just a friend, right? So it doesn’t matter. And I’m not trying to use you for sex or to get famous or anything, because I already am!”

He stopped right before opening the door and you collided. Turning him around, you pointed an accusing finger at him as the other three appeared, drawn to the scene because of the all the screaming. Yes, there were mostly cosy silences or lively conversations between you and Paul, but there sometimes were screaming and disagreements as well.

“Oi, what’s going on with you lovebirds?” John exclaimed.

He had started calling you that after he had found you two passed out on one of the studio’s couches after a long, tiring day, your head on his shoulder and his arms around your waist. You both had woken up like a blushing mess and denied any feelings involved, but it didn’t fool John and the nickname stuck.

“Shut up, Lennon. What did you just say?” You asked menacingly to Paul, eyes narrowed.

He crossed his arms, rolling his eyes.

“I’m just saying you should be careful, Y/N. People are not always kind for no reason.”

“So, you believe people only see me as a piece of meat? I don’t think so, McCartney, because I am talented, very talented, and people are aware of it. And if they also like what they see on top of what they hear, then I don’t see how it is your business!”

“Y/N, you’ve got to accept the possibility that they just want to use you!”

You blinked several times.

“Well, I can return the suggestion to you, considering all the brainless things that jump you wherever we go!”

You pushed him out of your way and stepped in the recording you. Giving a small nod to Brian, George Martin and the technicians (who had probably heard everything), you sat on your chair and started tuning your guitar. A pair of feet appeared in front of you and you were about to tell them to fuck off when you realized it was George. Trying to calm yourself, you smiled at him. It wasn’t his fault your morning had turned out to be bad after all.

“Geo, I made you those cookies you like, you know, with the dark chocolate bits. They’re in my bag.”

His toothy grin made his cheekbones look sharper as he took a seat next to you.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll get you those scones more often then.”

“That’s my boy! You know I live for these kinds of exchanges.”

“Naturally. So… What happened?”

“Nothing, he was just being an arse. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Y/N, Paul may be one of the persons who admire you the most. I know that because he always asks and listens to your advice on a song. He has learnt a lot from you just as you have from him, and he cherishes the fact that you are part of the band. I’m pretty sure he considers you as some kind of gem – which you are, to be honest – that could realise she’s far too better for us and leave.”

“But it’s not some random fan who’s going to take me away, like…”

“Yeah, well, that’s because he doesn’t only love you, like we all do. He’s in love with you.”

“What?”

John, Ringo and Paul turned their heads to you, hearing your shocked tone. You locked eyes with the latter. He still looked annoyed with you but there was something else there. Something more intense.

“I’m only telling you because I know you’re in love with him too.”

For once, you did not even bother to deny it; it was high time to act on your feelings. Tapping George’s shoulder as a thank you, you got up and practically ran to Paul.

“What the fuck, McCartney!”

He got up as well, confused and frustrated.

“What? What do you want now?”

“Why didn’t tell me it was just a jealousy crisis and attacked my music skills instead?”

“Who said I was jealous? And why would I be? I – George, you’re going to pay for this – don’t-”

You waved his babbles away and pulled him from his collar, your lips crashing against his. He stopped trying to justify himself and pulled you closer, his hands on the sides of your face. You heard John whistle in the background but you could not find the energy to flip him off with what Paul was doing to you. You also heard a snapshot, probably Ringo’s camera, but you did not mind.

The kiss lasted until you both were out of breath. Breaking it off, you panted slightly, palms resting against his chest. The air between you was electrifying, and you looked up to plunge in his hazel doe eyes. He let his hands slide to your waist and held you in a soft but firm embrace. Nobody around you seemed to want to break the silence that had settled.

You felt a gentle smile coming to your lips once again and he mirrored it. You both let go of each other at the same time, sharing a knowingly loving look before getting your instruments. The ambient sounds resumed as suddenly as they had stopped and you grabbed your guitar pick.

“Well, shall we start?”

#paul mccartney #paul mccharmly #paul mccartney imagine #paul mccartney x reader #the beatles #the beatles x reader #the beatles imagine #beatles imagine #beatles #beatles x reader

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afoxysunny · 4 years

Text

Robbie as Bullock

This post will probably differ from the others in structure and be a lot longer for one big reason

When choosing Miraculous for the Lazytown characters i really wanted to only use ones that we've already seen in use in Miraculous Ladybug and know how they work from there.

For Robbie i broke that rule. I don't really remember what first made me consider it but it probably had to do with the fact that i think the Ox Miraculous, just aesthetically, would fit Robbie perfectly!

So for this one i had to start from scratch completely, no reference for a canon hero design, no idea what power or weapon he'd get, no clue what the phrase to transform could be.

Of cause i used the most references for him but here are the ten i found most important

Obviously i don't expect any of my speculations to become even remotely canon once we find out what Stompp, the Ox Miraculous, actually does but i hope it at least makes sense for now.

I like how I've drawn all the others standing head on to face the camera and Robbie just leans there. That's because you have to think he doesn't care, the little Tsundere

Concept Overview:

In the Miraculous Ladybug episode we meet all the Kwamis, including Stompp, he is the most actively concerned about Nooroo so now that the Butterfly Kwami is back I'm sure Stompp would want to stay around him. With Sportacus partnering with Nooroo, teaming up Robbie and Stompp made the most sense to them.

Design Notes Incoherent Thoughts I had to justify what I'm Drawing:

Purple and Blue - it amused me no end that with the choices i made blue Sportacus got a purple Kwami and purple Robbie got a blue kwami. I did kinda dislike at first how little blue the costume has in comparison to purple but i decided i don't have to make a decision because apparently the canon show can't make up its mind about Stompp's colour either. The blue and purple can always be swapped if i decide i don't like it

Harness - Ox' are hard working animals, mostly used to pull heavy objects. For that purpose they get strapped into a harness. Obviously i had to include that in this design, the chain hanging from the collar around his neck has a similar purpose (it only occured to me way too late how kinky it looks please ignore that)

Cape? No cape? - because of the imbalance in colours i briefly considered giving him a cape like a Matador would have but only for a second or so. I wanted to keep Robbie's iconic body shape untouched by a bunky cape, also the few times he wore a cape in the show he really struggled with it and also i think it would've clashed with the tail

Tail - speaking of which, an ox' tail has that frizzy end to it but i really liked the chain as his tail so to emulate the thicker part at the end i hung a padlock there. And that really worked. Not only bc that's just how bulls and ox are kept in check with their strength but also because the oblong shape of a combination lock makes for a fitting shape and can be used in universe. You see, Robbie is not that good with just saying what he wants or expressing how he feels. This four letter combination lock is magic and kinda betrays and helps him at the same time. It spells out any given four letter word that fits his mood best at any given moment

Miraculous Nosering - if a Lazytown character would unironically get a nosering, it'd be Robbie. I'm sorry, i don't take criticism on that

Horns - he needed horns. He just did. Look how good he looks with horns! But for real, in Miraculous Ladybug Chat Noir gets actual cat ears so he can get actual horns, also like Chat he the white parts of his eyes turn yellow like Stompp's while keeping his signature grey iris

Hair - ox' are mostly shown with like bangs covering their eyes so i couldn't resist ruffling his usually so perfectly done hair up to make it fall a little like that

Weapon - my first thought of "Miraculous takes cliché traits for animals to base their powers on so i guess bullfighting is the way to go here" made me really sad. This "Sport" is so disgusting i wanted to cry and puke while reading about it. I'll spare you the details but in addition to the Matador in the arena there's other guys too to weaken the bull before the Matador kills it, one of them throws knives. Miraculous Ladybug likes combining weapons with toys so I'm giving him darts. They are fastened to the front of his harness and i think how they can be used is along the lines of, once he zhrows them with his super strength and they pin into something they can only be removed when he allows that, also like the ladybug's jojo they can fly how long and whatever direction he wants, and probably also is able to just manifest them back to himself if ever one gets lost

Miraculous Power - again, just pure speculation here, but the powers we so far know of are all loosely based on an exaggerated cartoon trope of each animal so for the ox that is hard working and persistent and for the bull that'd be aggression and tunnel vision. While typing this i get the urge to add blinders to his mask but i digress. So i made up an exaggerated power that'd fit both but when i told my test group (two people) one said "oh, kinda like Bloodhound from Apex Legends" and the ozher said "so like hunter's mark from DnD" i play neither so i don't know but maybe you do do that's the short version of the explanation xD his power is based on the cartoonish depiction of a bull seeing something that bothers him and then charging at it for as long as he can until he gets it. Once Robbie focuses on an enemy or someone running away or someone he is following for whatever reason he can use his power to keep track of them. No matter how far away they go or where they try to hide. It sounds OP as shit but think of the Snake and Bunny who can both time travel and then say that again. The catch is he needs to use it while that person is still in clear sight for him so i think it balances a little better

Name:

Do you know the difference between a Bull and an Ox? Well, let me mansplain it to you anyway

The reason i kept switching between drawing inspiration from bulls and ox' is because it's the same animal. Those are both names for an adult male cow. The only difference being that an ox is castrated and a bull is not. Stompp is the Ox Miraculous so tough nuts Robbie, literally. But making babies isn't really on his to do list anyway with Sportacus as his partner so who cares.

Anyway, I had the design done and like always i struggled a lot with naming it

But then i learned a Bullock is not only a cool word that seems to be a mix of bull and lock like his design is but it also is the official name of a male cow too young to be castrated yet! Isn't that just perfect? I think it is

Also I'll include in this section the phrases one needs to speak to have Stompp transform them into this Ox themed Superhero and for the power to activate. If you think of something more fitting for either please let me know!

Transformation:

simple version - horns up / horns down

More detailed - time to charge / time to loaf

(charging is when a bull starts running blindly at something; loafing is the professional farmer term for a resting cow)

Power: Target Charge, Locked On, or my personal favorite option Head-On. Again going with the more in depth terminology, that's what the running style of a bull is called when he's chatging at a target

Story:

Robbie lived in Lazytown but when the kids grew louder and older and he got more annoyed wih not having his peace and quiet he just up and left. He spent a lot of time traveling around, living wherever it was comfortable and leaving when it wasn't anymore. Thanks to being an inventor and overall talanted crafty person he got by pretty easily as there was always a company running on "hire a lazy person for an important job, they'll find the easiest solution for the most complicated problems" so he never really had to worry.

Whether by coincidence or fate Robbie and Sportacus run into each other and despite Robbie being a little difficult they both immediately feel strangely drawn to one another. With time going by they meet more often, at first more or less by chance but eventually they plan to meet up regularly. They might have very different ways of doing it but they share a common lifestyle: helping out others to live a comfortable and fulfilling life.

Only after Sportacus was chosen to be the new Guardian of the Miracle Box he finally asks Robbie to join him, full time by his side traveling in his airship around the world wherever they may be needed. Of cause only for moral support and such, obviously. You see, they always enjoyed each others company and sort of over time eased into a relationship like coexistence but neither of them ever really acknowledged that. Only when Sportacus got Nooroo's power to sense other people's feelings that barrier of miscommunication fully fell. Robbie is incredibly bad with conveying his emotions but now Sportacus can sense that he has potentially the most powerful and purest emotions he ever encountered. Not only is each feeling of his powerful but when there is more than one at play they don't mix together and muddy each other but instead boost even more. He knew before that he wanted Robbie to join him but that discovery made it a necessity.

Despite not being able to actually say so Robbie is thrilled to come along. Only over time and with a lot of painfully slow conversations they manage to agree to make their relationship official.

Stompp, the sassy Ox Kwami, regularly bursts out of the Miracle Box to want to check on Nooroo and slowly he and Robbie bond over telling Sportacus and Nooroo to go easier on themselves and let a little responsibility get taken off their shoulders so eventually they team up and Bullock is created.

Thanks to Robbie's hard work to better himself with Sportacus' help, Stompp's magic transformation provides him with a tail that conveys his feelings for him.

When they hear that Lazytown has been wiped clean of grown-ups Sportacus immediately flies them over there so Robbie can check on his hometown. Finding only a few children, now teens, left there Robbie recognizes them and the two form the plan to give them Miraculous' too so they can help to find their lost family, friends and neighbors and fight together to bring them back.

Wow that was so much to read and you did it! I'm so impressed and thankful! You deserve a pat on the back (if you want one) and a cookie and/or sportscandy on your way out

#Lazytown #miraculous ladybug #Lazytown au #Miraculous Lazybug #revive the lazy #Robbie Rotten #sportarobbie #mentioned #Stompp

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